Raspberries - Smosh slash
Title: Raspberries
Rating: PG
Summary: Fluff of the sickliest kind. Anthony plays nurse when Ian is sick.
Ded: For smoshluv13, and for Charlie the drunk guinea pig just cause he's so cute :)
Disclaimer: Sadly, I am still no closer to owning smosh *pouts*
“I feel like death,” Ian grumbled through his stuffed-up nose, bunged words punctuated by muffled sniffing, “where’s the cough syrup? I’m dying and everything hurts!”
Anthony sighed, searching through the wooden kitchen cabinet they kept especially for medicines and the like, pulling out the stacks of little white boxes and scattering the pill packets over the worktops in his bid to find the big brown bottle of medicine before Ian pretended to go delirious again.
“Anthony!” came Ian’s feeble call from the couch, followed by the sound of more husky coughing floating through the open kitchen door as Anthony emptied the cabinet shelves. Where was that damn bottle? He’d had it not two hours ago!
“Ian is the Benylin on the coffee table?” he called towards the living room. There was a pause and Anthony rolled his eyes, grabbing the glass of fresh ice-laden orange juice from by the kitchen sink and the clean medicine spoon that lay next to it.
“Oh.” Ian mumbled, as Anthony came back through the door to where Ian lay curled up on the couch, both pairs of eyes falling on the big, pretty unmissable, brown bottle balanced on the edge of a pile of magazines and surrounded by a carpet of strewn candy wrappers. Anthony sighed and raised his eyebrow at Ian’s guilty grin, placing the orange juice down on the table and brushing away some of the empty packets as he reached for the bottle.
Ian looked a right sorry state, buried in a thick cocoon of blankets that wrapped right around his head, feet sticking out of the bottom and only leaving a small face-hole for him to peer out of, like an Eskimo of the sofa. His eyes and nose were red and runny, his cheeks tinged with a pink blush, and a thin shimmer of sweat set across his features, despite his insistence that he was too cold. A classic picture of flu. But to Anthony, he still looked beautiful.
He smiled fondly at Ian, Ian’s eyes creasing apprehensively as they focused on the little white spoon that Anthony held in one hand. He shuffled his blankets as Anthony sat down, arranging them so they nestled around Anthony’s back and shifting his knees so they curled up against Anthony’s thigh. Anthony twisted the cap of the sticky bottle and poured out some of the red glossy syrup on to the spoon.
“Open wide.” He said, looking down at Ian’s face peering out of a mass of blue blankets.
“Oh really?” Ian sniggered, flicking his eyebrow and grinning as he pulled the blanket away from his head, mess of honey brown hair sticking up all over the place. Anthony laughed. Still the same old Ian despite the over dramatised I’m-dying-of-flu conviction.
“Just shut up and open your mouth.” He replied, pushing the spoon towards Ian’s lips. Ian complied, swallowing it down with a grimace.
“Yuch.” He muttered, features contorting for a second as Anthony poured out another spoonful, “I hate that stuff.”
“It’s supposed to taste like raspberry.” Anthony sighed, feeding the second spoon to Ian and twisting the bottle cap back on. Ian stuck his tongue out in sarcastic disgust.
“They got it very wrong,” he said, and medicine now consumed he snuggled back down into the ball of blanket, eyes closing, “rotten raspberries maybe, but not proper fresh juicy raspberries and...” Ian’s mumbles came to a halt and he opened his eyes to look hopefully up at Anthony. “We don’t have any real raspberries do we?”
Anthony chuckled, reaching down to trail his fingers along Ian’s cheek and brush back stay strand of matted fringe.
“No.” He replied, and Ian’s eyes flickered with a flash of disappointment. “but I could go get some from the store if you want? If you don’t mind being left here on your own for a little while.”
“How long would you be?” Ian asked, looking thoughtful, “I might die.” And Anthony laughed
“I’d take the car, so only about ten minutes.” And he leaned down to press a soft kiss against Ian’s clammy forehead, feeling an arm wind round his waist to pull him in closer and Ian shifted so Anthony could half lay across his chest on one elbow.
“I’d kiss you, but I might infect you with all my horrible germs,” He whispered, their faces close and partially aligned so Anthony’s neck was at tilt, sharing breath and gazing into soft baby blue eyes that shone bright even when full of flu. “And I probably look like shit anyway.” Anthony smiled down at Ian’s streaming stuffed-up face.
“You always look beautiful.” He whispered back, and Ian’s lips twisted into a smile.
“Well aren’t you just a big bag of candy hearts and valentine cards.” He giggled grinning. Anthony poked his side through the layers of blanket and pursed his lips through his grin.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like it when I’m romantic.” He laughed and Ian rolled his eyes, shrugging in defeat. “and I don’t give a damn about stupid germs.”
“Good.” Ian sighed, sniffing again and pulled Anthony into a tighter embrace, leaning up to connect their lips. Anthony kissed him softly, tasting the nasty raspberry cough syrup on Ian’s sticky tongue.
“You’re right.” He breathed, pulling away slightly so Ian could suck in a deep breath of air and sniff again, “That stuff tastes disgusting.” Ian grinned and leaned up for another kiss, locking Anthony in the circle of his arms and wrapping the blankets around them both.
“Yeah I know,” he whispered, “Raspberries my ass.”
“What your ass?” Anthony giggled, rubbing the tip of his nose against Ian’s and not caring if germs pick-axed their way through his sinuses, Ian shaking with laughter beneath him.
“Oh shut up.” Ian breathed and pressed them into another sticky kiss, fingers snaking through the back of Anthony’s dark hair and keeping him close.
For a moment, a shallow hush set over the disordered living room, pale sunlight pushing through thin closed blinds and settling over empty drinks glasses, discarded sweet packets and jumbled bedding, only broken by the quiet sounds of Ian sniffing between kisses and and the faint rustle of denim jeans brushing as Anthony was pulled deeper into the soft warm cocoon, winding their limbs together in a tangle.
“Stay.” Ian whispered as he broke them apart to breathe again. “Forget about the raspberries.” And Anthony nodded, resting his head down against Ian’s shoulder and burying his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the sweet musky smell of Ian faintly traced with peppermint oil.
“Raspberries forgotten.” He replied, closing his eyes. Ian sighed happily rested his head against Anthony’s, firm arms and encasing blankets keeping him close.
Ian fell asleep pretty soon after, deep even breath brushing soft tickles along Anthony’s skin and chest rising and falling in steady beats beneath his head. Anthony couldn’t be sure if he’d dozed off too, now and again. The clock face was obscured by Ian’s untidy brown hair and he was far too comfortable to even consider checking his watch. Not that it really mattered at all. Even if he did catch Ian’s flu he wouldn’t want to move an inch. Ian could always look after him in return. This was the only place he wanted to stay for the rest of the afternoon.
xxx