P!ATD - Fic - Homemade Remedies
Title: Homemade Remedies (Recipes for Sick Days)
Author: lady_deathangel
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. I'm not writing this for profit or claiming that it's true.
Rating: G
Pairings: Jon/Ryan, hints of Jon/Ryan/Spencer/Brendon
Warnings: fluff
A/N: So, there has been an outcry for more Jon/Ryan fic. And I tried, I really did. Thing is . . . Spencer and Brendon wanted in, too. So, you know, take it as Jon/Ryan with inevitable GSF in the near future. ;) Also, Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I hope you spend it surrounded by people that you love and who love you back. :D
Jon’s voice was low as he leaned over the back of the couch and said, “Hey, how are you feeling?”
Brendon mumbled something incoherent from where was wrapped up in blankets, legs twined with Ryan’s, sharing body heat. Ryan blinked his eyes open blearily at Jon and made a noncommital noise of his own. He attempted to give a verbal answer at least, saying in a voice that was hoarse and broken, “Like shit.”
“Mmmhmmm,” Brendon moaned, twitching a bit.
Ryan frowned and held still, waiting for Brendon to settle again.
“That’s what you get for pushing yourselves so hard when you’re already sick,” Spencer said from the kitchen.
“Just make my damn soup, Smith,” Brendon croaked. “And stop saying ‘I told you so’.”
“Well,” Spencer said, and Ryan saw him peek his head around the kitchen’s doorway. “We did tell you so.”
Ryan blinked up at Jon who nodded gravely.
“We did,” he said, extending a hand to feel Ryan’s forehead. The back of his hand was blessedly cool, too cool, and Ryan was probably burning up. He felt cold though. “When did you take your medicine last?” Jon asked.
Ryan tried to remember but couldn’t. Thinking hurt his head too much. Brendon huffed and coughed and said, “Three hours ago? Can I have some more now, please?”
“You’re such a baby!” Spencer said from the kitchen.
Brendon whined a non-verbal response back and Ryan would have snickered if he weren’t feeling just as miserable. He tipped his face up to Jon, tried to look as pitiful as possible.
“Please can we have some more?” he said.
Jon snorted and shook his head, pulling his hand back. “You can have some more after you eat something.”
“But Jon,” Ryan said, voice too deep to be a proper whine.
“But Ryan,” Jon said back, leaning in close. “If you’d just listened to us you wouldn’t have gotten this sick.”
Ryan sniffled and Jon’s chuckle was a wash of moist air over his chapped lips. Jon’s smile turned crooked and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the tip of Ryan’s raw nose.
“You’re cute when you’re sick,” he said.
“You must have some weird fetish for sick people,” Ryan shot back, but he was grinning and he inclined his head, pressing an answering kiss to Jon’s jaw.
“No!” Brendon moaned. “No, no, no, you aren’t allowed to make out when I’m right here and deathly ill. Spencer, tell them!”
“Jon, you’ll get yourself sick,” Spencer said obligingly. “Ryan, seriously, keep your lips to yourself. Brendon? Shut up, already.”
Brendon made a little noise and snuggled deeper into the blankets, his toes worming their way under Ryan’s legs.
“You heard him,” he said. “No making out.”
Jon leaned back (which prompted Ryan to pout half-heartedly) and raised his eyebrows at Brendon.
“I think you’re just jealous,” he said teasingly.
Brendon stared at him and then mumbled, “Maybe.”
Ryan watched Jon’s face fold into a sympathetic expression. “Poor thing,” he said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Brendon’s temple. “Better?”
Brendon, always quicker on the draw than any of them except, maybe, Spencer, tipped his head up and caught Jon’s lips in a quick, chaste kiss.
“Yes!” he said happily. “Better.”
Ryan tried to roll his eyes and sneezed instead; it hurt, a little, in his chest and throat and he must have made a face because Brendon’s toes wriggled consolingly and Jon perched himself on the edge of the couch, running his hands through Ryan’s hair. Ryan murmured appreciatively and dozed off, head against Jon’s thigh, until Spencer wandered out with soup (chicken noodle because Ryan and Brendon would have thrown a bitch fit over anything else).
“Aw,” he said. “Aren’t you all precious.”
“And neglected,” Brendon said, even though Ryan had been idly rubbing his foot where it rested on his chest.
Spencer snorted and Brendon sat up, holding out his hands.
“Soup please,” he said meekly. “And then maybe more cold medicine?”
“And what do you want after that?” Spencer asked, handing one bowl to Brendon and another to Ryan. “Cuddle time?”
“With Spinal Tap!” Brendon said and Ryan nodded eagerly, eyes wide over the rim of his bowl, lips pursed as he blew a stream of cool air across the shimmery, gold surface of his soup so it wouldn’t burn him.
“Well,” Spencer said, lips quirking up slightly. “I don’t have anything better to do.”
He shared a look with Jon over Ryan’s head and they both grinned while Brendon slurped his soup, making ‘it’s hot, it’s hot!’ faces the whole time and while Ryan casually sipped his (he was morally opposed to cutlery when he was sick, possibly because he was all thumbs whenever it happened). After, Ryan and Brendon knocked back little cupfuls of cherry cough medicine, made twin faces of disgust, and proceeded to be obvious about making room on the couch for Spencer and Jon.
They ended up glomped together, Jon on one end with Ryan leaning on his chest, Spencer on the other with Brendon’s head in his lap, and a mess of arms and legs in the middle. Five minutes in Ryan fell asleep, one hand cupped in Jon’s, the other resting on Brendon’s hip. Brendon managed to stay awake an extra ten minutes, nodding off and jerking awake with a sleepy giggle, before he finally fell asleep. Spencer didn’t realize he’d been petting Brendon’s head until he noticed Jon doing the same to Ryan. Twenty minutes later Spencer’s legs were asleep and Jon had what felt like a circle of drool on his chest, but they didn’t really notice.
They’d both nodded off, Jon with one hand in Ryan’s hair, Spencer with one hand in Brendon’s; their free hands met and rested idly against each other on the back of the couch.
Author: lady_deathangel
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. I'm not writing this for profit or claiming that it's true.
Rating: G
Pairings: Jon/Ryan, hints of Jon/Ryan/Spencer/Brendon
Warnings: fluff
A/N: So, there has been an outcry for more Jon/Ryan fic. And I tried, I really did. Thing is . . . Spencer and Brendon wanted in, too. So, you know, take it as Jon/Ryan with inevitable GSF in the near future. ;) Also, Happy Valentine's Day everyone! I hope you spend it surrounded by people that you love and who love you back. :D
Jon’s voice was low as he leaned over the back of the couch and said, “Hey, how are you feeling?”
Brendon mumbled something incoherent from where was wrapped up in blankets, legs twined with Ryan’s, sharing body heat. Ryan blinked his eyes open blearily at Jon and made a noncommital noise of his own. He attempted to give a verbal answer at least, saying in a voice that was hoarse and broken, “Like shit.”
“Mmmhmmm,” Brendon moaned, twitching a bit.
Ryan frowned and held still, waiting for Brendon to settle again.
“That’s what you get for pushing yourselves so hard when you’re already sick,” Spencer said from the kitchen.
“Just make my damn soup, Smith,” Brendon croaked. “And stop saying ‘I told you so’.”
“Well,” Spencer said, and Ryan saw him peek his head around the kitchen’s doorway. “We did tell you so.”
Ryan blinked up at Jon who nodded gravely.
“We did,” he said, extending a hand to feel Ryan’s forehead. The back of his hand was blessedly cool, too cool, and Ryan was probably burning up. He felt cold though. “When did you take your medicine last?” Jon asked.
Ryan tried to remember but couldn’t. Thinking hurt his head too much. Brendon huffed and coughed and said, “Three hours ago? Can I have some more now, please?”
“You’re such a baby!” Spencer said from the kitchen.
Brendon whined a non-verbal response back and Ryan would have snickered if he weren’t feeling just as miserable. He tipped his face up to Jon, tried to look as pitiful as possible.
“Please can we have some more?” he said.
Jon snorted and shook his head, pulling his hand back. “You can have some more after you eat something.”
“But Jon,” Ryan said, voice too deep to be a proper whine.
“But Ryan,” Jon said back, leaning in close. “If you’d just listened to us you wouldn’t have gotten this sick.”
Ryan sniffled and Jon’s chuckle was a wash of moist air over his chapped lips. Jon’s smile turned crooked and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the tip of Ryan’s raw nose.
“You’re cute when you’re sick,” he said.
“You must have some weird fetish for sick people,” Ryan shot back, but he was grinning and he inclined his head, pressing an answering kiss to Jon’s jaw.
“No!” Brendon moaned. “No, no, no, you aren’t allowed to make out when I’m right here and deathly ill. Spencer, tell them!”
“Jon, you’ll get yourself sick,” Spencer said obligingly. “Ryan, seriously, keep your lips to yourself. Brendon? Shut up, already.”
Brendon made a little noise and snuggled deeper into the blankets, his toes worming their way under Ryan’s legs.
“You heard him,” he said. “No making out.”
Jon leaned back (which prompted Ryan to pout half-heartedly) and raised his eyebrows at Brendon.
“I think you’re just jealous,” he said teasingly.
Brendon stared at him and then mumbled, “Maybe.”
Ryan watched Jon’s face fold into a sympathetic expression. “Poor thing,” he said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Brendon’s temple. “Better?”
Brendon, always quicker on the draw than any of them except, maybe, Spencer, tipped his head up and caught Jon’s lips in a quick, chaste kiss.
“Yes!” he said happily. “Better.”
Ryan tried to roll his eyes and sneezed instead; it hurt, a little, in his chest and throat and he must have made a face because Brendon’s toes wriggled consolingly and Jon perched himself on the edge of the couch, running his hands through Ryan’s hair. Ryan murmured appreciatively and dozed off, head against Jon’s thigh, until Spencer wandered out with soup (chicken noodle because Ryan and Brendon would have thrown a bitch fit over anything else).
“Aw,” he said. “Aren’t you all precious.”
“And neglected,” Brendon said, even though Ryan had been idly rubbing his foot where it rested on his chest.
Spencer snorted and Brendon sat up, holding out his hands.
“Soup please,” he said meekly. “And then maybe more cold medicine?”
“And what do you want after that?” Spencer asked, handing one bowl to Brendon and another to Ryan. “Cuddle time?”
“With Spinal Tap!” Brendon said and Ryan nodded eagerly, eyes wide over the rim of his bowl, lips pursed as he blew a stream of cool air across the shimmery, gold surface of his soup so it wouldn’t burn him.
“Well,” Spencer said, lips quirking up slightly. “I don’t have anything better to do.”
He shared a look with Jon over Ryan’s head and they both grinned while Brendon slurped his soup, making ‘it’s hot, it’s hot!’ faces the whole time and while Ryan casually sipped his (he was morally opposed to cutlery when he was sick, possibly because he was all thumbs whenever it happened). After, Ryan and Brendon knocked back little cupfuls of cherry cough medicine, made twin faces of disgust, and proceeded to be obvious about making room on the couch for Spencer and Jon.
They ended up glomped together, Jon on one end with Ryan leaning on his chest, Spencer on the other with Brendon’s head in his lap, and a mess of arms and legs in the middle. Five minutes in Ryan fell asleep, one hand cupped in Jon’s, the other resting on Brendon’s hip. Brendon managed to stay awake an extra ten minutes, nodding off and jerking awake with a sleepy giggle, before he finally fell asleep. Spencer didn’t realize he’d been petting Brendon’s head until he noticed Jon doing the same to Ryan. Twenty minutes later Spencer’s legs were asleep and Jon had what felt like a circle of drool on his chest, but they didn’t really notice.
They’d both nodded off, Jon with one hand in Ryan’s hair, Spencer with one hand in Brendon’s; their free hands met and rested idly against each other on the back of the couch.