Flu From Hell
Title: Flu from Hell
Pairing: Pinto
Rating: R
Summary: Chris falls ill and Zach arrives to look after him.
Disclaimer: We do not own the actors, unfortunately. Not even as pets.
Word Count: 4507
Authors: petbubble and leandralocke
Authors' notes: This fic was inspired when my co-author caught a heavy cold this week and actually tweeted that her brain had liquidated. After I began breathing again we decided that it'd be fun to write Chris all poorly, with Zach being all loving and sweet to him.
“I’m serious, just stay away from me.”
His voice sounded hoarse and wheezy as he pressed the cool surface of his iPhone close to his heated cheek.
“I’ll be fine,” he lied, feeling horrible. “I’ma hang up now.”
Not waiting for a reply, he ended the call and tossed his phone somewhere onto the surface of the bed, carelessly, his muscles already aching from the strain of holding it in the first place. As he pulled the covers up higher, almost completely vanishing beneath them, his body started to shake, and a second later he had the worst coughing fit he could remember in a long, long time.
Chris felt like crying. Seriously. Not only because his entire body felt like it had been run over twice by a truck and apparently also transported to the North Pole or somewhere else where it was freezing cold, but also because his plans for a perfect day had been completely ruined. There’d be no brunch with Zach (which he had hoped to take place in bed between lots of nice fucking), no walk in the vineyards with Noah where they had planned to drive in the afternoon to escape the paps (plus, he had imagined, they might do some more fucking if they found a nice secluded spot somewhere), and… well, no fucking.
Instead, the only tremors he felt were from freezing half to death, and the only moans that left his lips were from the effort of breathing through his mouth all of the time, because, instead of having this fucking heavenly, perfect day, Chris had to have a flu from hell.
Fuck my life, he thought, as he closed his eyes and hoped for sleep or death or whatever would make him feel a tiny bit better.
Something must have been looking down on him because the next thing he was aware of was darkness and a cool weight on his forehead. Fuck, he was burning now but whatever the coolness belonged to was also stopping him from kicking the covers off. Or rather, it was stopping him from twitching his legs feebly because everything hurt so damn much.
“Shush, Chris,” he heard a voice that sounded to his sensitive aching ears like it was coming through a megaphone, as the coolness vanished and the bed shifted as a weight moved. “You moron. ‘I’ll be fine.’ I’ll be kicking your ass once you get well,” the voice continued as he could hear rustling and clinking before the bedroom door opened, letting in a slit of bright, explosive light.
Zach…
He was shocked and at the same time completely delighted that he had come nevertheless to take care of him, but in the next moment, when he blinked against the light beneath heavy eyelids, embarrassment kicked in as well because if he looked half as horrible as he felt he must look (and probably smell) like complete and utter shit.
"Ughnn," was all that left his lips before he started to cough again, almost choking on his own spit and struggling to breathe with a completely congested nose.
“Hey, hey!,” came the comforting mellowness of Zach’s voice from somewhere in the apartment, but Chris couldn’t tell where and he sure as hell wasn’t prepared to move the lump of lead masquerading as his head to try and see. He could hear that Zach was doing something though - probably in the kitchen, the sounds of cupboard doors being closed quietly, though still fucking too loud, reaching him from along the hall.
Right at that moment though a high-pitched whistle tore through the place. A piercing, shrill noise that tore through his brains and made it feel like his head was going to implode, explode… whatever. He just wanted - no, needed - it to stop. Right. Fucking. Now. Please?
A shouted curse joined the pain-making squealing from the boiling kettle before it suddenly cut off. He could hear Zach muttering to himself, presumably engaging in some form of verbal self-flagellation at using the antique kettle that he’d insisted they bought - one for his apartment, one for Chris’. Why the hell he couldn’t just use the normal electric kettle that was in the kitchen was beyond Chris, but right now he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about either kettle as long as they kept quiet.
The bed moved again as Zach settled his weight gingerly at the edge. The coolness returned briefly to his forehead as fingers moved sweaty strands of hair.
“Can you sit up, Chris? You think you can move for me?”
"'O-way," he mumbled nasally, not sure Zach had even understood him. And probably that was a bonus too since Chris didn't really want Zach to leave. He just didn't want to move.
Breathing in as deeply but slowly as he could without breaking out into another coughing fit, he moved the blanket a little and gingerly tried to sit up. Just why did his limbs feel like someone had attached heavy weights to them?
He blinked against the light that was only partially obscured by Zach's silhouette, as the older one helped him rearrange the pillows to give his back some support, and finally, after what had felt like a marathon, he sat semi-upright, gazing up at Zach with half-open eyes and fully open mouth which must look as ridiculous as it felt. He closed his mouth but immediately realized he had to open it again if he didn't want to die from lack of oxygen.
Zach stared at him, brows lowered in concern as he held Chris steady and adjusted the pillows some more, creating an almost concave hole around his shoulders so that he couldn’t slide sideways back onto the mattress. Wedged into position Chris could, despite his snot filled nose, smell something. Something… strange yet vaguely familiar but the hammering in his head wouldn’t let him focus on identifying it.
Dipping his head to look into his eyes, Zach smiled a little - just the corner of his mouth but enough to show Chris that he was forgiven for trying to keep his boyfriend away. “You look like shit, Pine,” Zach joked, that familiar chuckling rumble spilling over his lips. “And if you look like shit, you’ve gotta feel like shit. I mean, you’re not even wearing plaid.”
A witty retort following under any other circumstances, Chris only managed to nod and release something like a groaned "Uh-huh", without even really moving his lips.
Geez, get a grip on yourself!
"I am," he then replied under effort and looked over to the tray Zach had brought with him from the kitchen. "Watcha got? Dunno if I can even eat or drink anything," he said and snuffled loudly.
Reaching behind him, Zach picked up the large cup from the tray, a thin wisp of steam tendriling its way to Chris’ stuffed nose. Whatever the hell was in the cup caused his eyes to suddenly water and he tried and failed to suppress another coughing fit.
“Okay dude, we’re going to do this slowly, and I doubt that you’re gonna like it much, but I put some honey in here to make it taste a bit better,” Zach said, rubbing a hand gently over his back as he leaned back against the cushions. The cup held in the palm of his other hand, he offered it to Chris. “Tea. Drink…”
Though he didn't really want to, he carefully took the cup from Zach's hands and blew over the rim to cool the tea a little, coughing as he inhaled the hot steam and almost spilling the hot drink over his lap. Finally, he managed to take a tiny sip, wincing at the bitter, biting taste of it. "That's supposed to make me feel better? What is this shit anyway?" he asked and coughed again, nodding in Zach's direction, glad that his boyfriend understood it as a prompt to take the cup again. "It's too hot anyway. I almost burned my tongue," he added, pouting.
Rolling his eyes a little, Zach pushed the cup towards him again. “Stop being a baby. I added cold water to cool it before I brought it in anyway, so just drink.” Seeing that Chris just continued to stare at him, not taking the cup from his hands, Zach sighed softly. “Okay, you’re not a baby. It’s ginger, sage and elderberry tea, with aconite in there for your fever and gelsemium for the aches. Hundred percent natural.”
Waggling the cup gently in front of him, Zach widened his eyes and mimicked Chris’ pout. “Drink? Please… for me?”
Chris felt the corners of his mouth curl as he stared into the cup, and back up into Zach's pleading, deep brown and irresistible eyes. Damn him!
He carefully took another sip and swallowed quickly so he didn't have to endure the weird taste for too long. Maybe he'd get away with drinking just a third or half of the cup. Although it did soothe his throat a little.
"Why does it have to be some homeopathic crap though?" he asked, still frowning, but starting to pout soon. "I want real drugs, man. If you're here already, gimme some drugs!"
Zach just blinked, one brow raised in that annoying Spock pose he pulled when he felt he was in a morally superior position. Again Chris cursed silently that his boyfriend could look disapproving and hot at the same time. Resting a hand under the cup, fingers caressing the back of Chris’ hand lightly, Zach applied a little pressure pushing the cup towards his mouth. Try as he might, he was just too weak to fight, and there was nowhere for him to move his head unless he wanted to twist it from side to side like a toddler. Which he was tempted to do as the pale yellow liquid moved closer.
“Shut up and swallow, drama queen. You never normally have a problem with that, so why now?”
Glaring a little Chris noticed the slight upward curve of Zach’s lips as his eyebrows wiggled in encouragement.
"Haha, very funny," Chris sulked, his voice becoming more nasal with every passing second. "At least gimme a break and lemme blow my nose," he said and was relieved to find that Zach did allow him to set the cup aside and fumble for a Kleenex.
He blew his nose loudly, one, two, three times, but the pressure in his sinuses didn't lessen the smallest bit. Instead, his belly muscles started to hurt with the strain, and on top of it all the skin around his nose and mouth was starting to burn with soreness.
Feeling slightly dizzy, he took a few deep breaths through open lips and then shook his head in disbelief. "Where's all that snot coming from? I think my brain just liquidated and turned into snot."
“Attractive as the thought of your gray matter going bankrupt is, I think the word you’re looking for is ‘liquefied’ sweetheart,” Zach replied, a teasing yet loving note to his voice.
Chris felt like smacking his forehead, but another coughing fit prevented any controlled movement. Instead, he just felt stupid and embarrassed. Of course he knew what the right word was, but right now it was a bit difficult to think straight. "Duh," he just said then and rolled his eyes as he wiped his nose once more. "Proves my point. Must be the fever talking, I guess."
A sympathetic, almost worried look crossed the older man’s face as he’d watched the strained coughing. Resting a hand again on Chris’ sweat covered brow, Zach shook his head and stood. “I’m not happy about this fever of yours, Chris. I’m gonna go make a call - you’ll be okay for a few?”
Chris' eyes widened. "A call? Huh? What? Who are you- you're not calling a doctor, are you? It's not that bad."
Zach stopped in the doorway, his iPhone in hand and grinned broadly. “I so knew you were pushing this, Pine. But no, it’s not to a doctor - I wanted to call Kristen and ask her to look in on Noah and Harold. Looks like I’m gonna have to be Nurse Ratched here for a while.”
Shaking his head and continuing to chuckle, Zach left the bedroom and Chris could faintly hear him as he made his call.
Chris felt a small smile spread on his lips as well - more than that and he'd probably cough himself to death again - but at the same time he hoped Zach wouldn't be as much of a tyrant as said nurse. Nah, he wouldn't. Although... forcing him to drink that utterly disgusting, strictly organic and homeopathic and natural piss broth was already bad enough.
It really had improved the rough, dry, scratching feeling in his throat and lungs already, though. Well, maybe, if he just got used to it...
He heard the quiet noises of the cupboards in the kitchen again, and braced himself for the expected shrilling of the kettle. It never came, but what did come through was a delicate smell of something actually edible. Well, Chris assumed it was a delicate smell - for all her could tell through the stuffiness in his nostrils it could be the heaviest odor known to man. But it smelled… good.
The bedroom door opened as Zach backed in, nudging it with his ass and the heel of his foot as he carried a bowl in one hand, a glass in the other and something - somethings under his arm.
Just good Zach hadn't seen him drink the tea. That would've been kind of embarrassing, he thought, although to some part of his brain that statement made little sense. He was just too stubborn to admit that the stuff was actually helping and not all that vile.
"Whatcha have now?" he asked, trying to sniff more and guess what Zach had brought this time, but failing to identify it.
Setting everything down carefully on the dresser, Zach took the spoon from his mouth. “Picked up some soup at the deli down the block on my way over,” he replied, handing him the silverware. After tucking the covers in around Chris, Zach picked up the bowl and sat on the edge of the bed, cradling it in his hands. “Some kind of chicken thing, like Mama Quinto always tried to get me to eat as a kid.” He wrinkled his nose as he looked between the pleasant looking gold liquid and Chris.
“I think this stuff might have real chicken in it, too. Lucky huh?”
Chris wasn't really hungry, or at least didn't have much of an appetite, but he was reasonable enough to know he should eat something nevertheless. Inspecting the soup more closely he suddenly frowned. "There are those icky, slimy black mushrooms in it. I don't want them."
And yes, he was fully aware that he did sound like a small kid now. He just really, really hated those.
And Zach didn’t even react, no smart comment, no eyebrow raise, no curling of the mouth… nothing that Chris would have expected at that point from someone sitting with a man behaving like a spoiled brat. All he did was take the spoon from him, and with a look of mild concentration fished about in the bowl until all the slimy lumps were captured. Lifting the spoon, Zach placed it in his own mouth and swallowed before drawing the cutlery between his closed lips and re-offering it to Chris, a calm expression on his face.
“Okay, icky gone. Now can you try and eat something?”
His brow raised and furrowed, Chris stared at Zach for a second and shook himself with a slightly nauseating feeling that stirred in the pit of his stomach as he imagined that his boyfriend had actually eaten all those disgusting things. Kinda touching, though.
He nodded then and took the spoon in his hand.
"Thanks," he said, smiling slightly before he dipped the spoon into the soup that was still warm enough but not too hot for eating. And although he was pretty sure his taste was not as sensitive as usual it actually was good, warming him pleasantly from the inside and soothing his sore throat some more with its slightly oily texture.
He looked up and saw Zach staring at him, eyes wider than normal, but not overly so. As though he was seeing something mildly humorous that he was trying not to laugh at.
"What?" Chris asked irritated, as he swallowed a mouthful of soup, trying not to let anything pour out of his mouth that he mostly had to keep open in order to breathe.
“Uh... Nothing.” Then an eyebrow raised almost of its own volition.
"Okay," Chris sighed in exasperation. "WHAT?"
“Just thinking that I've never seen you looking more attractive, Pine,” Zach grinned, the tip of his tongue teasing the point of one of his incisors before disappearing again. “Hot, sweaty, open mouthed...”
And he finally got it, torn between a feeling of embarrassment at how unattractive he must look and annoyance at being teased about it. "Shut up," he croaked and took another spoon of soup, this time deliberately chewing on a chunk of chicken with his mouth open as far as possible.
Which was a really bad idea.
Suddenly, a piece of chicken threatened to fall out of his mouth, and in the attempt to catch it, he choked and started coughing so hard that he had immense difficulties not spitting everything out either into the bowl or his lap. In the end, he managed to swallow and gratefully took the glass of water Zach offered him, drinking a few large gulps. There, better.
Only that it wasn't. The muscles in his chest started to spasm, and he coughed again, then sneezed and then...
No, dear god please no. He did not actually just... fart??
Zach's hand paused as he reached for the glass, and his eyes did widen fully then. Biting his bottom lip, he took the half empty glass and placed it on the dresser, along with the bowl that he'd managed to grab before the contents had poured everywhere. As Chris sat there, flushed with fever and embarrassment, Zach avoided making eye contact with him, moving random items around on the dresser before his shoulders started trembling.
Turning away from the bed and Chris, a muffled noise came from Zach, followed by a choked cough. Shoulders shook for a moment before the older man seemed to regain some control and turned back round, eyes shining brightly and lips pressed together, the corners raised.
“Can I-,” Zach started, then paused, rubbing a hand over his face and scrubbing his hair, clearing his throat. “Can I get you anything else, farty-pants?”
"Oh I hate you!" Chris managed to spit out with an almost strong voice, thankfully not coughing any longer. Or otherwise releasing any air. Sulking, his arms crossed in front of his chest, he looked up at Zach and felt his cheeks burning even more than they already had. "It's really not nice of you to make fun of poor sick me that can't control his body functions properly and..." Suddenly, a chuckle left his own lips and he covered his eyes with one hand, shaking his head. "Yeah I know. Just laugh about my hurt dignity," he snorted and sniffed.
He felt lips then warm breath that huffed against his skin, and moved his fingers apart so that he could see through the gaps. Dimpled chin, dark stubble and lips. Those lips - that had made him laugh, groan and scream like he'd never thought possible before hooking up with the owner. Lips he wanted to feel on his own. If only his own weren't cracked and dry as hell and he didn't need to keep them open and clear of obstruction in order to survive.
A hand peeled his own away from his face and Zach's face was peering down at him, lids lowered slightly, and though there was a smile on his face it was clear he was no longer mocking him. “Hurt dignity or involuntary farting-” the lips curled upwards fondly “-I still love you, Christopher Pine. Now, what else does the patient require?”
It made him forget all his embarrassment and annoyance immediately, and a warm, fuzzy feeling spread in the pit of his stomach that wasn't caused by the soup. And suddenly, as the words resounded in his mind, Chris had to laugh. Loudly and whole-heartedly. But sure enough, that again ended in another coughing fit, and his head started to throb as he took a few wheezing breaths and settled himself lower against the pillows.
"Ugh..." he groaned, sniffing a couple of times again. "Actually, I want some aspirin, and I mean it. This headache can't be cured with herbal teas and shit. And secondly..." He bit his tongue before he finished, knowing that what he wanted most in this moment was anything but a good idea. "Never mind. Just the aspirin. Please."
Lifting himself off the bed, Zach leaned forwards and kissed him on the top of his head. Chris' eyes widened as he saw the man's hand reach down towards the crotch of his jeans. Wha-? Did he think he was in any way well enough to be doing that? Now? He felt his face flush again as he saw the hand was actually headed towards the tiny pocket, not the buttons. Clutched between two fingers, a small white blister pack of tablets emerged.
“I figured you'd need some to help you sleep,” Zach murmured against his hair, before handing them to him along with the remaining water.
As Chris had swallowed the meds, he put the glass aside and looked back up at Zach, smiling slightly. "You know, you should really stay away from me and not kiss me and stuff. Or you'll catch the flu, too," he said, hating himself for being that reasonable while all he wanted was to lie down and have Zach's warm body wrapped around him.
“You know, you're probably right Doctor Pine, but I've never been one for conventional medical opinion, have I?” Zach replied, shaking his head slightly. “Are you saying you want me to go? Leave you to cough up a lung or die from aspirin poisoning or something?” His bottom lip was pushed out and he started with those big damn Bambi eyes again, batting his long, dark lashes. “What kind of awesome nurse-boyfriend would I be, then?”
Chris chuckled again and shook his head, although this time he noticed it took his body a lot of effort. Although it had helped him feel slightly better - he didn't feel like utter crap anymore, only like normal crap - sitting upright for a while, eating, drinking and talking had been exhausting. "Well, I think I do wanna sleep," he said, fighting a losing battle with his common sense. "But... if you don't mind staying?"
Zach had obviously already picked up on the signs that he was starting to flag, as he jumped up and, wrapping an arm around his shoulder started to adjust the pillows again, lowering them and helping him shuffle down the bed.
“Y'know what? Fuck this pillow crap.”
Hands went into pockets again, and Chris couldn't help but stare from his semi-prone position at the amount of, well, crap that was emptied from them. Were they Mary Poppins pockets or something? As iPhone, coins, bills, receipts and even a couple of condoms went on to the dresser, Chris saw Zach toe his shoes off before he turned back to the bed. Supporting Chris with one arm and moving him forwards briefly, Zach crawled onto the bed and positioned himself behind him, legs apart; shuffling down the bed until his head rested on the older man's chest.
As wonderfully comfortable as this felt - and Chris was highly tempted to just sigh in delight, close his eyes and fall asleep - he couldn't help but turning his head and looking up at Zach once more. "You sure?" he asked. "Not only because I'm full of viruses or bacteria - whatever, but... doesn't look very comfy."
Zach just shrugged, adjusting his legs a little and wriggling his toes against Chris's legs. “I'm sure I can cope for a few hours,” he replied, hands squeezing his shoulders gently as he tilted his head forwards and kissed Chris' forehead, not even making a face at what must feel hot and clammy under his lips. Well he did eat those slimy lumps from the soup...
“Besides, you'd do the same for me, right? Right? ...Christopher?”
He wanted to pretend that it took him some time considering this, implying that he wouldn't exactly, but feeling his boyfriend so close to him, being here while he was poorly and gross and just pathetic, Chris did not find it in himself to do any such thing. Instead he nodded and gave Zach a small smile before he nuzzled his head comfortably against Zach's body, closing his eyes.
"I wouldn't make you drink that horrible tea though," he added and chuckled faintly.
He felt the rumbling vibration against his shoulders, neck and head before he heard the laughter. “Horrible tea? Must be magic too - looks like it just disappeared from that cup, Pine. Now go to sleep, Princess. I'll be here when you wake up,” Zach murmured softly into his hair, laying an arm gently around his shoulder and across his chest, the sensation of fingers softly stroking his skin one of the last things he was aware of for what felt like a blissfully long time.
Five days later, when Chris had pretty much recovered from what had been a heavy but short flu, he pulled his car into the driveway of Zach's house, his mood better than it had been for weeks. His nose was free and, same as his lips, thanks to some panthenol balm not sore anymore. His headache and fever were gone and his limbs had regained their strength. In short: he was full of energy and horny as fuck. And so, with a pocketful of condoms and the biggest shit eating grin let himself into the house, looking for his boyfriend.
"Zach? Zachary? Where are you?" he called, not finding the older man in the living room but knowing he must be at home since the front door hadn't been locked.
His grin quickly faded, however, when he heard an oddly familiar hacking sound and a curse coming from the bedroom. Stepping over discarded tissues, Chris looked down at Zach's flushed, fevered face.
And all he managed to say at the sight of his very ill and very needy boyfriend was: "Fuck."
Pairing: Pinto
Rating: R
Summary: Chris falls ill and Zach arrives to look after him.
Disclaimer: We do not own the actors, unfortunately. Not even as pets.
Word Count: 4507
Authors: petbubble and leandralocke
Authors' notes: This fic was inspired when my co-author caught a heavy cold this week and actually tweeted that her brain had liquidated. After I began breathing again we decided that it'd be fun to write Chris all poorly, with Zach being all loving and sweet to him.
“I’m serious, just stay away from me.”
His voice sounded hoarse and wheezy as he pressed the cool surface of his iPhone close to his heated cheek.
“I’ll be fine,” he lied, feeling horrible. “I’ma hang up now.”
Not waiting for a reply, he ended the call and tossed his phone somewhere onto the surface of the bed, carelessly, his muscles already aching from the strain of holding it in the first place. As he pulled the covers up higher, almost completely vanishing beneath them, his body started to shake, and a second later he had the worst coughing fit he could remember in a long, long time.
Chris felt like crying. Seriously. Not only because his entire body felt like it had been run over twice by a truck and apparently also transported to the North Pole or somewhere else where it was freezing cold, but also because his plans for a perfect day had been completely ruined. There’d be no brunch with Zach (which he had hoped to take place in bed between lots of nice fucking), no walk in the vineyards with Noah where they had planned to drive in the afternoon to escape the paps (plus, he had imagined, they might do some more fucking if they found a nice secluded spot somewhere), and… well, no fucking.
Instead, the only tremors he felt were from freezing half to death, and the only moans that left his lips were from the effort of breathing through his mouth all of the time, because, instead of having this fucking heavenly, perfect day, Chris had to have a flu from hell.
Fuck my life, he thought, as he closed his eyes and hoped for sleep or death or whatever would make him feel a tiny bit better.
Something must have been looking down on him because the next thing he was aware of was darkness and a cool weight on his forehead. Fuck, he was burning now but whatever the coolness belonged to was also stopping him from kicking the covers off. Or rather, it was stopping him from twitching his legs feebly because everything hurt so damn much.
“Shush, Chris,” he heard a voice that sounded to his sensitive aching ears like it was coming through a megaphone, as the coolness vanished and the bed shifted as a weight moved. “You moron. ‘I’ll be fine.’ I’ll be kicking your ass once you get well,” the voice continued as he could hear rustling and clinking before the bedroom door opened, letting in a slit of bright, explosive light.
Zach…
He was shocked and at the same time completely delighted that he had come nevertheless to take care of him, but in the next moment, when he blinked against the light beneath heavy eyelids, embarrassment kicked in as well because if he looked half as horrible as he felt he must look (and probably smell) like complete and utter shit.
"Ughnn," was all that left his lips before he started to cough again, almost choking on his own spit and struggling to breathe with a completely congested nose.
“Hey, hey!,” came the comforting mellowness of Zach’s voice from somewhere in the apartment, but Chris couldn’t tell where and he sure as hell wasn’t prepared to move the lump of lead masquerading as his head to try and see. He could hear that Zach was doing something though - probably in the kitchen, the sounds of cupboard doors being closed quietly, though still fucking too loud, reaching him from along the hall.
Right at that moment though a high-pitched whistle tore through the place. A piercing, shrill noise that tore through his brains and made it feel like his head was going to implode, explode… whatever. He just wanted - no, needed - it to stop. Right. Fucking. Now. Please?
A shouted curse joined the pain-making squealing from the boiling kettle before it suddenly cut off. He could hear Zach muttering to himself, presumably engaging in some form of verbal self-flagellation at using the antique kettle that he’d insisted they bought - one for his apartment, one for Chris’. Why the hell he couldn’t just use the normal electric kettle that was in the kitchen was beyond Chris, but right now he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about either kettle as long as they kept quiet.
The bed moved again as Zach settled his weight gingerly at the edge. The coolness returned briefly to his forehead as fingers moved sweaty strands of hair.
“Can you sit up, Chris? You think you can move for me?”
"'O-way," he mumbled nasally, not sure Zach had even understood him. And probably that was a bonus too since Chris didn't really want Zach to leave. He just didn't want to move.
Breathing in as deeply but slowly as he could without breaking out into another coughing fit, he moved the blanket a little and gingerly tried to sit up. Just why did his limbs feel like someone had attached heavy weights to them?
He blinked against the light that was only partially obscured by Zach's silhouette, as the older one helped him rearrange the pillows to give his back some support, and finally, after what had felt like a marathon, he sat semi-upright, gazing up at Zach with half-open eyes and fully open mouth which must look as ridiculous as it felt. He closed his mouth but immediately realized he had to open it again if he didn't want to die from lack of oxygen.
Zach stared at him, brows lowered in concern as he held Chris steady and adjusted the pillows some more, creating an almost concave hole around his shoulders so that he couldn’t slide sideways back onto the mattress. Wedged into position Chris could, despite his snot filled nose, smell something. Something… strange yet vaguely familiar but the hammering in his head wouldn’t let him focus on identifying it.
Dipping his head to look into his eyes, Zach smiled a little - just the corner of his mouth but enough to show Chris that he was forgiven for trying to keep his boyfriend away. “You look like shit, Pine,” Zach joked, that familiar chuckling rumble spilling over his lips. “And if you look like shit, you’ve gotta feel like shit. I mean, you’re not even wearing plaid.”
A witty retort following under any other circumstances, Chris only managed to nod and release something like a groaned "Uh-huh", without even really moving his lips.
Geez, get a grip on yourself!
"I am," he then replied under effort and looked over to the tray Zach had brought with him from the kitchen. "Watcha got? Dunno if I can even eat or drink anything," he said and snuffled loudly.
Reaching behind him, Zach picked up the large cup from the tray, a thin wisp of steam tendriling its way to Chris’ stuffed nose. Whatever the hell was in the cup caused his eyes to suddenly water and he tried and failed to suppress another coughing fit.
“Okay dude, we’re going to do this slowly, and I doubt that you’re gonna like it much, but I put some honey in here to make it taste a bit better,” Zach said, rubbing a hand gently over his back as he leaned back against the cushions. The cup held in the palm of his other hand, he offered it to Chris. “Tea. Drink…”
Though he didn't really want to, he carefully took the cup from Zach's hands and blew over the rim to cool the tea a little, coughing as he inhaled the hot steam and almost spilling the hot drink over his lap. Finally, he managed to take a tiny sip, wincing at the bitter, biting taste of it. "That's supposed to make me feel better? What is this shit anyway?" he asked and coughed again, nodding in Zach's direction, glad that his boyfriend understood it as a prompt to take the cup again. "It's too hot anyway. I almost burned my tongue," he added, pouting.
Rolling his eyes a little, Zach pushed the cup towards him again. “Stop being a baby. I added cold water to cool it before I brought it in anyway, so just drink.” Seeing that Chris just continued to stare at him, not taking the cup from his hands, Zach sighed softly. “Okay, you’re not a baby. It’s ginger, sage and elderberry tea, with aconite in there for your fever and gelsemium for the aches. Hundred percent natural.”
Waggling the cup gently in front of him, Zach widened his eyes and mimicked Chris’ pout. “Drink? Please… for me?”
Chris felt the corners of his mouth curl as he stared into the cup, and back up into Zach's pleading, deep brown and irresistible eyes. Damn him!
He carefully took another sip and swallowed quickly so he didn't have to endure the weird taste for too long. Maybe he'd get away with drinking just a third or half of the cup. Although it did soothe his throat a little.
"Why does it have to be some homeopathic crap though?" he asked, still frowning, but starting to pout soon. "I want real drugs, man. If you're here already, gimme some drugs!"
Zach just blinked, one brow raised in that annoying Spock pose he pulled when he felt he was in a morally superior position. Again Chris cursed silently that his boyfriend could look disapproving and hot at the same time. Resting a hand under the cup, fingers caressing the back of Chris’ hand lightly, Zach applied a little pressure pushing the cup towards his mouth. Try as he might, he was just too weak to fight, and there was nowhere for him to move his head unless he wanted to twist it from side to side like a toddler. Which he was tempted to do as the pale yellow liquid moved closer.
“Shut up and swallow, drama queen. You never normally have a problem with that, so why now?”
Glaring a little Chris noticed the slight upward curve of Zach’s lips as his eyebrows wiggled in encouragement.
"Haha, very funny," Chris sulked, his voice becoming more nasal with every passing second. "At least gimme a break and lemme blow my nose," he said and was relieved to find that Zach did allow him to set the cup aside and fumble for a Kleenex.
He blew his nose loudly, one, two, three times, but the pressure in his sinuses didn't lessen the smallest bit. Instead, his belly muscles started to hurt with the strain, and on top of it all the skin around his nose and mouth was starting to burn with soreness.
Feeling slightly dizzy, he took a few deep breaths through open lips and then shook his head in disbelief. "Where's all that snot coming from? I think my brain just liquidated and turned into snot."
“Attractive as the thought of your gray matter going bankrupt is, I think the word you’re looking for is ‘liquefied’ sweetheart,” Zach replied, a teasing yet loving note to his voice.
Chris felt like smacking his forehead, but another coughing fit prevented any controlled movement. Instead, he just felt stupid and embarrassed. Of course he knew what the right word was, but right now it was a bit difficult to think straight. "Duh," he just said then and rolled his eyes as he wiped his nose once more. "Proves my point. Must be the fever talking, I guess."
A sympathetic, almost worried look crossed the older man’s face as he’d watched the strained coughing. Resting a hand again on Chris’ sweat covered brow, Zach shook his head and stood. “I’m not happy about this fever of yours, Chris. I’m gonna go make a call - you’ll be okay for a few?”
Chris' eyes widened. "A call? Huh? What? Who are you- you're not calling a doctor, are you? It's not that bad."
Zach stopped in the doorway, his iPhone in hand and grinned broadly. “I so knew you were pushing this, Pine. But no, it’s not to a doctor - I wanted to call Kristen and ask her to look in on Noah and Harold. Looks like I’m gonna have to be Nurse Ratched here for a while.”
Shaking his head and continuing to chuckle, Zach left the bedroom and Chris could faintly hear him as he made his call.
Chris felt a small smile spread on his lips as well - more than that and he'd probably cough himself to death again - but at the same time he hoped Zach wouldn't be as much of a tyrant as said nurse. Nah, he wouldn't. Although... forcing him to drink that utterly disgusting, strictly organic and homeopathic and natural piss broth was already bad enough.
It really had improved the rough, dry, scratching feeling in his throat and lungs already, though. Well, maybe, if he just got used to it...
He heard the quiet noises of the cupboards in the kitchen again, and braced himself for the expected shrilling of the kettle. It never came, but what did come through was a delicate smell of something actually edible. Well, Chris assumed it was a delicate smell - for all her could tell through the stuffiness in his nostrils it could be the heaviest odor known to man. But it smelled… good.
The bedroom door opened as Zach backed in, nudging it with his ass and the heel of his foot as he carried a bowl in one hand, a glass in the other and something - somethings under his arm.
Just good Zach hadn't seen him drink the tea. That would've been kind of embarrassing, he thought, although to some part of his brain that statement made little sense. He was just too stubborn to admit that the stuff was actually helping and not all that vile.
"Whatcha have now?" he asked, trying to sniff more and guess what Zach had brought this time, but failing to identify it.
Setting everything down carefully on the dresser, Zach took the spoon from his mouth. “Picked up some soup at the deli down the block on my way over,” he replied, handing him the silverware. After tucking the covers in around Chris, Zach picked up the bowl and sat on the edge of the bed, cradling it in his hands. “Some kind of chicken thing, like Mama Quinto always tried to get me to eat as a kid.” He wrinkled his nose as he looked between the pleasant looking gold liquid and Chris.
“I think this stuff might have real chicken in it, too. Lucky huh?”
Chris wasn't really hungry, or at least didn't have much of an appetite, but he was reasonable enough to know he should eat something nevertheless. Inspecting the soup more closely he suddenly frowned. "There are those icky, slimy black mushrooms in it. I don't want them."
And yes, he was fully aware that he did sound like a small kid now. He just really, really hated those.
And Zach didn’t even react, no smart comment, no eyebrow raise, no curling of the mouth… nothing that Chris would have expected at that point from someone sitting with a man behaving like a spoiled brat. All he did was take the spoon from him, and with a look of mild concentration fished about in the bowl until all the slimy lumps were captured. Lifting the spoon, Zach placed it in his own mouth and swallowed before drawing the cutlery between his closed lips and re-offering it to Chris, a calm expression on his face.
“Okay, icky gone. Now can you try and eat something?”
His brow raised and furrowed, Chris stared at Zach for a second and shook himself with a slightly nauseating feeling that stirred in the pit of his stomach as he imagined that his boyfriend had actually eaten all those disgusting things. Kinda touching, though.
He nodded then and took the spoon in his hand.
"Thanks," he said, smiling slightly before he dipped the spoon into the soup that was still warm enough but not too hot for eating. And although he was pretty sure his taste was not as sensitive as usual it actually was good, warming him pleasantly from the inside and soothing his sore throat some more with its slightly oily texture.
He looked up and saw Zach staring at him, eyes wider than normal, but not overly so. As though he was seeing something mildly humorous that he was trying not to laugh at.
"What?" Chris asked irritated, as he swallowed a mouthful of soup, trying not to let anything pour out of his mouth that he mostly had to keep open in order to breathe.
“Uh... Nothing.” Then an eyebrow raised almost of its own volition.
"Okay," Chris sighed in exasperation. "WHAT?"
“Just thinking that I've never seen you looking more attractive, Pine,” Zach grinned, the tip of his tongue teasing the point of one of his incisors before disappearing again. “Hot, sweaty, open mouthed...”
And he finally got it, torn between a feeling of embarrassment at how unattractive he must look and annoyance at being teased about it. "Shut up," he croaked and took another spoon of soup, this time deliberately chewing on a chunk of chicken with his mouth open as far as possible.
Which was a really bad idea.
Suddenly, a piece of chicken threatened to fall out of his mouth, and in the attempt to catch it, he choked and started coughing so hard that he had immense difficulties not spitting everything out either into the bowl or his lap. In the end, he managed to swallow and gratefully took the glass of water Zach offered him, drinking a few large gulps. There, better.
Only that it wasn't. The muscles in his chest started to spasm, and he coughed again, then sneezed and then...
No, dear god please no. He did not actually just... fart??
Zach's hand paused as he reached for the glass, and his eyes did widen fully then. Biting his bottom lip, he took the half empty glass and placed it on the dresser, along with the bowl that he'd managed to grab before the contents had poured everywhere. As Chris sat there, flushed with fever and embarrassment, Zach avoided making eye contact with him, moving random items around on the dresser before his shoulders started trembling.
Turning away from the bed and Chris, a muffled noise came from Zach, followed by a choked cough. Shoulders shook for a moment before the older man seemed to regain some control and turned back round, eyes shining brightly and lips pressed together, the corners raised.
“Can I-,” Zach started, then paused, rubbing a hand over his face and scrubbing his hair, clearing his throat. “Can I get you anything else, farty-pants?”
"Oh I hate you!" Chris managed to spit out with an almost strong voice, thankfully not coughing any longer. Or otherwise releasing any air. Sulking, his arms crossed in front of his chest, he looked up at Zach and felt his cheeks burning even more than they already had. "It's really not nice of you to make fun of poor sick me that can't control his body functions properly and..." Suddenly, a chuckle left his own lips and he covered his eyes with one hand, shaking his head. "Yeah I know. Just laugh about my hurt dignity," he snorted and sniffed.
He felt lips then warm breath that huffed against his skin, and moved his fingers apart so that he could see through the gaps. Dimpled chin, dark stubble and lips. Those lips - that had made him laugh, groan and scream like he'd never thought possible before hooking up with the owner. Lips he wanted to feel on his own. If only his own weren't cracked and dry as hell and he didn't need to keep them open and clear of obstruction in order to survive.
A hand peeled his own away from his face and Zach's face was peering down at him, lids lowered slightly, and though there was a smile on his face it was clear he was no longer mocking him. “Hurt dignity or involuntary farting-” the lips curled upwards fondly “-I still love you, Christopher Pine. Now, what else does the patient require?”
It made him forget all his embarrassment and annoyance immediately, and a warm, fuzzy feeling spread in the pit of his stomach that wasn't caused by the soup. And suddenly, as the words resounded in his mind, Chris had to laugh. Loudly and whole-heartedly. But sure enough, that again ended in another coughing fit, and his head started to throb as he took a few wheezing breaths and settled himself lower against the pillows.
"Ugh..." he groaned, sniffing a couple of times again. "Actually, I want some aspirin, and I mean it. This headache can't be cured with herbal teas and shit. And secondly..." He bit his tongue before he finished, knowing that what he wanted most in this moment was anything but a good idea. "Never mind. Just the aspirin. Please."
Lifting himself off the bed, Zach leaned forwards and kissed him on the top of his head. Chris' eyes widened as he saw the man's hand reach down towards the crotch of his jeans. Wha-? Did he think he was in any way well enough to be doing that? Now? He felt his face flush again as he saw the hand was actually headed towards the tiny pocket, not the buttons. Clutched between two fingers, a small white blister pack of tablets emerged.
“I figured you'd need some to help you sleep,” Zach murmured against his hair, before handing them to him along with the remaining water.
As Chris had swallowed the meds, he put the glass aside and looked back up at Zach, smiling slightly. "You know, you should really stay away from me and not kiss me and stuff. Or you'll catch the flu, too," he said, hating himself for being that reasonable while all he wanted was to lie down and have Zach's warm body wrapped around him.
“You know, you're probably right Doctor Pine, but I've never been one for conventional medical opinion, have I?” Zach replied, shaking his head slightly. “Are you saying you want me to go? Leave you to cough up a lung or die from aspirin poisoning or something?” His bottom lip was pushed out and he started with those big damn Bambi eyes again, batting his long, dark lashes. “What kind of awesome nurse-boyfriend would I be, then?”
Chris chuckled again and shook his head, although this time he noticed it took his body a lot of effort. Although it had helped him feel slightly better - he didn't feel like utter crap anymore, only like normal crap - sitting upright for a while, eating, drinking and talking had been exhausting. "Well, I think I do wanna sleep," he said, fighting a losing battle with his common sense. "But... if you don't mind staying?"
Zach had obviously already picked up on the signs that he was starting to flag, as he jumped up and, wrapping an arm around his shoulder started to adjust the pillows again, lowering them and helping him shuffle down the bed.
“Y'know what? Fuck this pillow crap.”
Hands went into pockets again, and Chris couldn't help but stare from his semi-prone position at the amount of, well, crap that was emptied from them. Were they Mary Poppins pockets or something? As iPhone, coins, bills, receipts and even a couple of condoms went on to the dresser, Chris saw Zach toe his shoes off before he turned back to the bed. Supporting Chris with one arm and moving him forwards briefly, Zach crawled onto the bed and positioned himself behind him, legs apart; shuffling down the bed until his head rested on the older man's chest.
As wonderfully comfortable as this felt - and Chris was highly tempted to just sigh in delight, close his eyes and fall asleep - he couldn't help but turning his head and looking up at Zach once more. "You sure?" he asked. "Not only because I'm full of viruses or bacteria - whatever, but... doesn't look very comfy."
Zach just shrugged, adjusting his legs a little and wriggling his toes against Chris's legs. “I'm sure I can cope for a few hours,” he replied, hands squeezing his shoulders gently as he tilted his head forwards and kissed Chris' forehead, not even making a face at what must feel hot and clammy under his lips. Well he did eat those slimy lumps from the soup...
“Besides, you'd do the same for me, right? Right? ...Christopher?”
He wanted to pretend that it took him some time considering this, implying that he wouldn't exactly, but feeling his boyfriend so close to him, being here while he was poorly and gross and just pathetic, Chris did not find it in himself to do any such thing. Instead he nodded and gave Zach a small smile before he nuzzled his head comfortably against Zach's body, closing his eyes.
"I wouldn't make you drink that horrible tea though," he added and chuckled faintly.
He felt the rumbling vibration against his shoulders, neck and head before he heard the laughter. “Horrible tea? Must be magic too - looks like it just disappeared from that cup, Pine. Now go to sleep, Princess. I'll be here when you wake up,” Zach murmured softly into his hair, laying an arm gently around his shoulder and across his chest, the sensation of fingers softly stroking his skin one of the last things he was aware of for what felt like a blissfully long time.
Five days later, when Chris had pretty much recovered from what had been a heavy but short flu, he pulled his car into the driveway of Zach's house, his mood better than it had been for weeks. His nose was free and, same as his lips, thanks to some panthenol balm not sore anymore. His headache and fever were gone and his limbs had regained their strength. In short: he was full of energy and horny as fuck. And so, with a pocketful of condoms and the biggest shit eating grin let himself into the house, looking for his boyfriend.
"Zach? Zachary? Where are you?" he called, not finding the older man in the living room but knowing he must be at home since the front door hadn't been locked.
His grin quickly faded, however, when he heard an oddly familiar hacking sound and a curse coming from the bedroom. Stepping over discarded tissues, Chris looked down at Zach's flushed, fevered face.
And all he managed to say at the sight of his very ill and very needy boyfriend was: "Fuck."