Chicken Soup and Kisses
Title: Chicken Soup and Kisses
Author/Artist/Vidder/...: amythest_n_ice
Prompt used: - Jack / Ten H/C. I want to see Jack sick and the doctor looking after him. Lots of snuggly cuddles!
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/warnings: none
Summary: Jack has the flu.
Martha walked into the console room, and saw Jack leaning back against the railing around the console.
“You look like shit,” she said to the immortal. His face was pale, except for bright spots of color over his cheekbones and forehead, there was sweat on his brow too, despite the fact he was shivering.
“Danks.” He snapped thickly, ducking away as she attempted to put a hand to his forehead.
“I dink I ‘ave a co’d.”
“Where’s the Doctor?” She asked when he ducked a second attempt to check how warm he was. He gave her an irritable shrug, and she gave up, going to look for the Doctor herself.
She found him in his lab, tinkering with the sonic screwdriver.
“Jack’s sick, and grumpy,” she said without preamble.
“What? What’s wrong with him?”
“He thinks he has a cold, but he wouldn’t let me check his temperature, so I couldn’t say for sure. He’s your boyfriend, you deal with his moodiness.”
“He can’t be that bad.” The Doctor laughed, following her back to the console room. They went in, and found Jack now sitting huddled in the captain’s chair, still shivering.
“Jack?” The Doctor hurried over and crouched in front of the chair, resting his hands on his lover’s knees.
“Don’ feel so g’d.”
“I bet, you don’t look so good either,” the Doctor said, pressing a cool hand to Jack’s cheek. Jack leaned into the soothingly cool touch.
“When did you start feeling bad Jack?”
“’S’ mornin’.”
“Come on sunshine, medical for you, at least long enough to check you over.”
It was a good indication of how ill Jack felt that he didn’t argue with the Doctor’s order. He simply followed him quietly down to the medical bay, the thick sound of his breathing sounding strained in the corridor. The Doctor dropped back a pace and wrapped an arm around Jack’s waist, feeling the heat radiating off him even through their clothes.
“Doo hod.” ” Jack gasped as the chills subsided.
“I know sweetheart, I know. We’ll give you something to bring your temperature down as soon as I’ve checked you over.” He soothed.
He guided Jack into the medical bay and parked him on one of the couches, making him lie back against the pillows.
“Right, a couple of scans to see what you picked up.” The Doctor said, setting the diagnostics running.
Jack closed his eyes, drifting as he listened to the low hum of the diagnostic unit. But he startled awake when the Doctor pressed a cool hand to the side of his face and called his name.
“Hey, sorry to wake you. The scan is done, you’ve picked up Altarian Flu. Probably from someone on that station a few days back.”
“Mag id go ‘way.”
“Wish I could Jack, let’s get you to bed.” The Doctor helped him sit up, and took him back to their bedroom.
Once he had Jack settled in bed, he sat on the side and stroked sweat damped hair from his forehead, holding up an injector filled with lavender fluid in his other hand.
“Jack, this will help bring your temperature down, but, it has a sedative effect. It will put you out for a few hours.”
“’K,” Jack said miserably, tilting his head to the side to give the Doctor easier access to the side of his neck. The Doctor positioned it, and hit the switch, releasing the medication in a hiss of air. Jack felt his leaden limbs start to feel light and floaty, and grinned goofily at the Doctor. The Doctor grinned back, pleased as the flush began to fade slightly, and stayed at his side until the blue eyes slid closed. As soon as he was sure Jack was out for the count, he was up and heading for the console room.
Martha was in the console room, sitting in the captain’s chair with a cup of coffee when he darted in and started throwing switches on the console.
“Is he all right? Where are we going?”
“He’s been better, he has flu. You should be all right though, Altarian flu doesn’t like Earthlings.”
“So why is he sick then? He’s human.”
“But not from Earth.”
“Right, so where are we going?” She asked again.
“Earth, New York, 1987.”
“Why?”
“There is a Jewish Deli on the lower East Side, it does the best chicken soup.”
“You’re going to Earth for Chicken Soup? There’s a tin in the cupboard that my mum gave me last time I saw her you know.”
“Ugh, all full of chemicals and additives, and preservatives. It probably never even came within a feathers length of a real chicken. The chicken soup in this deli is fresh, packed full of chicken goodness, and all sorts of other good stuff., clear as a bell. It will do him the world of good,” the Doctor said firmly, perfectly happy to go to Earth to get this for his Jack.
Jack wasn’t sure how long he had been out when he forced heavy eyes open again, but the Doctor was sitting up on the bed beside him, shoes off, his sock covered toes beating out an absent rhythm as he bent his head over a thick book.
“Whad dime is id?” Jack croaked.
“Not as late as you’re thinking, you were only asleep for a couple of hours, I just wanted to keep you company.” The Doctor smiled, and leaned down to press a kiss to the still slightly too warm forehead.
He put his book aside, and helped Jack sit up, propping pillows behind him.
“I have a treat for you.” The Doctor said, getting off the bed.
“Whad?”
“The best chicken soup in the known universe.” The Doctor grinned, bouncing out. Minutes later, he was back with a gently steaming bowl, full to the brim with a clear broth packed with vegetables and noodles.
The Doctor put the bowl on the nightstand and held out a spoon full of broth and noodles to Jack.
“I can do id.” Jack protested.
“I know, but your hands are shaking, and I want to do this for you.”
Jack sighed slightly, but there was an indulgent smile hovering around his lips as he leaned back and allowed the Doctor to feed him the soup. Jack couldn’t taste anything, but the warm soup did feel very good as it settled in his empty stomach. He finished the bowl, and the Doctor took it back to the kitchen, returning with a jug of fresh orange juice in a portable stasis bubble to keep it cold and fresh.
“For fresh vitamin C.” The Doctor told him, pouring half a glass, so that Jack could manage it even with shaking hands. He put it on the nightstand, in easy reach if Jack wanted it, then climbed back onto his own side of the bed. Once there, he leaned over, pressing a light, brief kiss to Jack’s slightly chapped lips, then gathered the younger man into his arms. Jack settled comfortably into the Doctor’s grip, the semi-upright position making his nose less stuffed, and listened to the sound of twin hearts beating under his ear as he drifted off to sleep once more.
The Doctor looked down at the sleeping immortal cradled against him, kissing the mussed dark hair of the head on his shoulder. Jack would more than likely be well in the morning, once his hyped up immune system got the measure of the virus, and kicked it into touch, but the Doctor would cherish the memory of his fiercely independent lover allowing him to take care of him.
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Short and, I hope, sweet.