evening - (29 Parts)

[starpollen]

I also must thank Wolfmotaki for reminding you to continue!!! I love this story.

[missannathema]

Checking the board tonight and finding an update to this story totally made my entire day, possibly my entire week. I cannot tell you how much I love this story and how much I can't wait to read more.

Thanks for writing such enjoyable (and yummy) characters!

[SomethingClever]

very cute... as usual... I love their interactions, they have such a good bond building...

[jezebel215]

Part 25

Sara could feel Ben fall asleep, his muscles going slack against her. He had rolled slightly forward and his head slipped down the pillow. Sara could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and it raised goosebumps. She started to drift off when she was woken by Ben’s quick intake of breath. She paused, every cell on high alert, adrenaline wiping any vestige of calm, waiting.

Nothing.

Ben’s breathing returned to normal and Sara felt immediately ashamed. And relieved. This was more romance then she’d had in months and it was fantasy romance. Sara didn’t know if she could handle any more stimulation than she had already. She focused on Ben’s breathing, the soft weight of his arm across her waist, the tickle of his curls on the nape of her neck.

And she counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Two. Three... Sara concentrated on the rhythm, pausing long enough at each number to imagine it spelled out in her head, black letters on a white background and then a sea of more black. Creating the image took focus and slowly Sara relaxed. She could feel the moment when she grew tired, when she knew she would fall asleep. It was just a moment but Sara held onto that feeling, focusing know on the feeling as she counted. It was hard work relaxing and Sara was actually proud of herself for her technique. Of course, when you spend your whole life worrying about things, trouble falling asleep would seem a logical extension.

Five. Four. Three.

...

Sara didn’t know what woke her. Well, didn’t know for a moment at least. Until Ben did it again. He was still lying behind her, arms cradling her but he had turned his head as far toward his his free shoulder.

“Nnk-Epft... AHP-Gnkxt”

Sara could just feel the spray of warm air on her neck but she could tell Ben had tried to sneeze as far away from her as possible. ‘Pity’ she thought wryly.

“Bless you,” she said, rolling over so she was face to face with him.

“Sorry.”

“I think the polite response is thank-you,” Sara said, a slow grin forming at the corners of her mouth. It had grown dusky outside and was even darker in the room. They were only about 12 inches apart but Sara could just make out the shine of Ben’s eyes, the rise of his cheekbones and the curl of his lips.

“Thank-you then. Sorry if I sneezed on you. I tried...” he broke off and turned his eyes away. Sara could tell from the change in his demeanor he felt he had made a huge social blunder.

“You didn’t,” Sara lied, “and if you did, you have a free pass. It comes with the ‘sick boy package.”

“But it’s gross,” Ben objected. “And contagious.”

“I’ll grant you contagious,” Sara said. “But I’ve worked in a vet clinic. My standards for gross are a lot higher than the average. You sneezing on me? Not even close to the grossest thing I’ve seen or done.” She paused. Ben remained silent.

“Not even in the top 10,” she said, a little more softly. She reached over and pushed the hair off Ben’s eyes and tucking it behind his ear. Her fingers continued slowly, tracing a faint line down the back of his ear, his neck. As she reached his face she stopped, cupping his chin and forcing him to meet her eyes.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Ben was silent again. Sara had withdrawn her hand but she still felt Ben’s skin beneath it, the change from his neck to the stubble on his face. It was, Sara paused, not finding the word to describe her impression.

Manly.

Sara almost laughed as she finished her thought but refrained. ‘The last thing in the world Ben probably feels like right now is manly’ she thought. But the roughness of his skin under her palm... Sara became aware suddenly of his size, how he out the the bed more than she did. She felt like she was seeing him for the first time, not just as a person or a sick person but as a man. Maybe a man a little off his game, but all man. Sara felt something warm burning in her belly and she pushed it away. But she couldn’t unsee it.

Ben watched Sara, the dim light obscuring the details of her face but he caught a glimpse of a smile and then an expression he didn’t recognize. It was probably something bad he decided and started to roll away.

“Hey.”

Sara’s voice stopped him and he turned back, meeting her gaze.

“It’s really ok.”

As Ben stopped beating himself up about his social blunder he found himself considering Sara’s whole statement. Not even in the top ten? How much gross had she seen?

“Ok.” He said. Then he smiled. “But what I’m wondering now is, what on earth do you do at work?”

His voice was gravelly and while he tried to laugh at the end he started to cough and reluctantly turned away, grabbing a few tissues and the glass of water. Sara waited until he was settled back down before answering.

“You don’t want to know.”

Ben raised an eyebrow.

“Trust me on this. Anything I would say evokes entirely unsuitable images for sleeping. Unsuitable for anything, really.”

Ben pondered this for a moment.

“Ok. I’ll let you keep your secrets. I have to tell you though, what I’ve seen of you so far is someone who likes danger and violence and works in an unsavory profession. It’s not the most girly.”

Sara opened her mouth in angry surprise then caught his smile.

“Well, you sleep in plaid pajamas. I’ll just leave it at that.”

Ben started to laugh but again started coughing. Untangling himself from Sara he sat up reluctantly and grabbed a cough drop and the water. It took a moment but he stopped, awake again but fully exhausted. The coughs seemed to rip through his chest and throat and for a moment Ben wondered if he really did have a cold. This felt more like the flu. Or the plague he supposed, half joking.

“You sound terrible.”

“Is there a polite response to that?” Ben asked. When Sara’s only response was an annoyed silence he spoke again.

“I’m trying to decide if I have the flu or the plague.” He delivered this news in a somber voice and managed to keep a straight face.

Sara laughed and sat up.

“You do not have the plague,” She stated with a tone of false condescension.

“You probably don’t even have the flu. I bet you’re just milking this now. Turns out having a nursemaid isn’t so bad after all?” she said. Her voice was light as she teased him, managing to say exactly the opposite of what she was feeling. She was worried about Ben. He did sound terrible. He even admitted he was sick.

Whatever she thought. He’s a big boy. And besides, he said he’d go to the health center tomorrow and I’ll just make sure he follows through on that.

Ben laughed. “I confess” he croaked. “You’re onto me. Will you still be my nursemaid?” His voice was barely a wheeze but Sara could still hear the change in his tone.

‘He wants me to stay’ she realized and although she tried to act unflustered, she couldn’t help the grin that lit up her face.

“I won’t put on a nurse costume, but I suppose I can continue with this charade a bit longer.”

Ben felt himself relax at her words but with the change in focus he became intensely aware of his various discomforts.

“Can I at least call you Florence?” He asked.

Sara looked at him blankly.

“Nightengale?”

Sara laughed and playfully pushed Ben away, her hand on his chest. As he fell backwards on the bed he pinned her hand to him, pulling Sara down along side him. She followed his lead, and found herself lying on her stomach, her face against Ben’s chest. She could feel his heart beating and hear... Oh, not good. Hear the wheezy crackles from his chest. She was also aware of how hot she was becoming and she didn’t think it was just from the tension.

Still. Sara gave herself a moment, closing her eyes and savoring the feel of his hand on hers.

It only lasted a moment. Ben pulled his hand away and looked around the room with some urgency. Unable to reach either bedside table from his current position he gave up and buried his fact in the soft cloth of his elbow.

“AHP-Gnkxt..heh. HH-Hft....”

He stopped and looked up, eyes still closed in irritation, waiting-

“WRUH'Fisschue.”

From her position half on top of him Sara had felt Ben sneezing--the quick expansion of his thoracic muscles, the ragged breathing, the force of the exhalation. It was a new experience. It was one she decided she would like to have again.

“Bless you,” Sara stammered, hoping her voice wasn’t quaking as much as the rest of her.

Ben looked up as Sara uncurled herself, rolling easily to the side and grabbing a box of tissues. Ben accepted them gratefully and turned away to blow his nose.

The moment had passed. Sara noticed it was now dark outside and looked at the clock. 7pm? Where had the day gone?

Ben saw her look at the clock. The time surprised him as well. The day was blur but he didn’t think he’d used it all up already.

“You should-”

“I should-”

They spoke together then both paused until Ben said reluctantly “go home?”

“I should,” Sara agreed. It was the only thing that made sense. She had classes tomorrow, she didn’t have a change of clothes or her school work and yet... every part of her wanted to stay. She looked at Ben closely. He really did look like shit. And this morning he’d proven he was incapable of following simple medical instructions.

“I think I’m going to go home,” Sara said and Ben’s heart sunk slightly even though he knew it was the only reasonable decision. They had already overstepped the bounds of propriety this weekend. It had only been two days but it felt like-

“I need to get a change of clothes for tomorrow and my school work.”

She looked at Ben expectantly. He looked back at her, confused for a moment then, realizing her intent, he started to smile. He should protest. He should make her go home and yet, he wasn’t saying any of those words.

Sara had been waiting for them too. She had already made up her mind she wasn’t leaving Ben alone all night but expected him to argue about it.

“You don’t have to stay,” Ben said quietly, a hint of longing in his voice. Sara smiled. There we go. That’s more what she had expected.

“Actually, I think I do.”

Ben was confused again.

“Since you’ve shown you can’t follow basic dosing instructions, I’m certainly not going to let you undue all my hard work this weekend at getting you better.”

“You raise a good point,” Ben said, smiling more than he should have. “I am indeed of limited capability in some areas.”

Sara laughed.

“I hope not in all areas,” she said, the words sliding out before she could think.

Ben raised his eyebrows and Sara hoped the darkness hid her red cheeks.

“You stay here. In bed. Don’t do anything stupid or I’ll be mad when I get back. It’ll only be an hour or so.”

“Yes ma’am.”

As Sara stood to leave Ben’s head sunk into the pillow. He felt terrible in about every way he could imagine and yet...

“Is it ok if I leave your door unlocked? It was open when I got here,” Sara’s voice trailed off at the end of the sentence as she flashed back to her concern over the creepy-factor she was reaching.

“That’s cool. I always forget to lock it anyways.”

Sara ducked into the bathroom and changed into her street clothes. She left the XXXL t-shirt folded on the couch in the hallway and walked back into the bedroom. Her eyes met Ben’s and they stayed that way for a moment until Sara broke the tension.

“Do not even think about getting up. I’ll be back soon.”

Sara turned and left before she could change her mind. Ben watched her retreating figure until she was gone down the hallway.

‘She’s coming back’ he thought and, smiling, fell asleep.

[sassy674]

There are no words to describe how much I love this story! I'm ecstatic every time I see an update--thank you so much for keeping it up!

[obsessed]

THEY MADE A MOVE.

I love this!

[Kiwifruit]

Awww! Man, I LOVE this SO MUCH! Their conversations are so amusing and so realistic, and their relationship is SO CUTE! Man, I love it. As previously said. But it deserves to be said twice!!

I can't wait for the next bit

[cowgalnina]

ok this is like the perfect story. MORE MORE MORE!!!

[stargazer]

Oh my...what an awesome story!!! I can't believe I just found it. Where have I been all these months? I do hope you plan to continue.

[jezebel215]

Part 26

Walking outside the night was cool and clear, dark but bright with teh light forom the streetlights above. The air was crisp and Sara realized that while she had put back on her own jeans, she was wearing Ben’s sweatshirt.

Ben.

No. Not right now. Right now was too much to think about. “Just let this moment play out. Feel the evening drench you, the clarity of the sky and the stars and the last slips of sunset spread out desperately across the sky...”

Sara walked up the hill to her dorm room, her own words echoing in her head, the weight of her feet on the asphalt making her hyperaware that she was actually awake, actually having this experience. Up Southworth, turn right and meander through the blocks of family homes. Out in the yards frayed scarecrows and dilapidated pumpkins led her way home, the light of the moon and the stars drowned out by the telephone pole lights glowing yellow in the dark. Of course, this was how it had to be.

Sara sighed.

“I guess it’s good enough that I get to walk home at night alone and unafraid. Light pollution should really be low on my list of complaints.”

Her list of complaints. Her sense of the world and order. It felt good to have them slide back into her consciousness, superimposed on the surreal experience of this weekend. It is scary to feel something is real, but wonder if it’s not. Perhaps once burned and twice shy was a piss poor way of going through life but it was all Sara had. Each step took her further from Ben’s blue-paisley appartment and the dreamlike events of the last two days.

No matter. Sara had a plan and it involved PJs, her backpack, and clothes work for tomorrow and no, actually that was as far as her plan had gotten. Fair enough she decided. No reason to bring the kitchen sink on a five block journey.

‘I’m not even a boyscout so this whole “be prepared” issue I have, I need to let it go. It’s not like I can’t get anything I need after I reach my destination.’

Quickly climbing the cement staircase the three flights to her room Sara emptied her backpack onto the floor with total abandon. She’d clean up stale butterscotch drops later, right now she had a plan. She opted for a loose tanktop and girl boxers (the fake kind that are loose and short and don’t have a superfluous button fly...). Grabbing her chem binder, her genetics binder and an extra stash of pencils she stuffed her backpack, looking around to see if there was something she missed.

Oh yeah, english. She picked up “The Interpreter of Maladies” and quickly zipped her backpack . Looking down at her current outfit Sara decided it was fine -- she knew she had sleep bottoms waiting back at Ben’s, she had PJ’s in her backpack, clothes, for tomorrow... she was prepared.

Prepared but queasy inside like she’d gotten off the teacups ride at the local fair. Sara stripped down, grabbing her towl and heading for the bathroom. She stepped under the warm water, letting each drop hit her, the feeling of water coursing over her body invigorate her. She washed her hair (conditioned of course) + scented body wash (again of course) and, though it pained her, stepped back out of the shower.

Back in her room she towel dried and tried to speed things up. Quicky running a brush through her hair and slapping on some moisturizer, she slipped into her jeans, T-shirt and Ben’s sweatshirt.

She grabbed her backpack, looking franticly for some last piece of armor to make her trip back to Ben’s appartment safer.

There wasn’t anything.

Any armor she needed was already inside her, Sara realized. Don’t worry so much, don’t second guess yourself so much and, if you want to, try to hold your tongue. It is amazing what people will say if you don’t fill the silence.

~ ~ ~ ~

Back at his appartment Ben hadn’t done much but lie where Sara had left him. The sense of unreality that Sara felt echoed doubly in Ben, if only because his fever made the whole world a shimmering mirage, reality and imagination too closely linked to feel secure in anything.

His chest ached. Ben tried to take a deep breath but was rewarded only with coughing, the wet, raspy sounds unnerving even him.

‘I’m glad Sara’s not here to see this’ he thought wantonly then paused, reevaluating.

Sara was a strange duck. Sweet, smart, something... something he couldn’t put his finger on but was like salt in his soup -- a flavor he felt that once he had tasted it, he couldn’t eat Campbell’s ‘heart healthy low-sodium’ soup ever again.

Sara was salt. “Great,” Ben thought. “I think i’m losing my mind. This is a complement I should refrain from giving,” he mused, the pillow feeling suddenly sturdy beneath his head, the blanket a coccoon, the night...

~ ~ ~

It had only been two hours since Sara had stepped out of Ben’s apartment, pulling the door closed softly behind her and walking so quickly she nearly tripped as the curve leapt up from nowhere. This time she found herself taking the stairs slowly -- even slower than her ascent -- the feeling spreading through her not dread, not anticipation, but some strange love-child of the two.

Pushing the door open Sara was greeted by the cool November evening. She breathed it in, the tanin scent of fallen leaves and the great navy sky giving her enough courage to step outside.

Courage. It shouldn’t be a problem. She felt that both she and Ben had made their (albeit) awkward feelings (relatively) clear. But still. When the world acts like a dream, it makes sense to keep pinching yourself.

Sara walked down the hill, ignorant of how lucky she was to live in a place where people don’t lock their doors and girls can go wandering around in the dark. To her this was an established path, a journey she had made 4 times before but was only now starting to feel an instinctive pull, as if she needn’t concentrate at the crossroads, as if she knew where she was going.

Ben’s stoop was only another smudged light in the darkenss but to Sara it was a beacon and she quickened her steps, slowing only as she reached the door itself.

‘Enough’ she thought, and opened the door.

The flight of stairs seemed shorter as she took them, two at a time, up to Ben’s door. She hesitated briefly then knocked, so softly that she might as well have slipped in unannounced but enought to satisfy her bounds of propriety. The room smelled slightly of menthol and steam and Sara’s heart gave an unexpected twist at the memory of Ben in the shower.

“Down girl. This isn’t Fantasy Island. There are other people involved here.”

~ ~ ~

Sara walked through Ben’s sitting room, each pillow as she had left it, the tea kettle still on the stove (turned off, safety first), the blanket left in a pile on Ben’s side of the couch. The room was very still save for one noise.

“hck'Gishoo. HAHK'Chff'. Ihf-Hapt'choo.”

Sara smiled slightly as she heard Ben. Unobserved he sneezed with a pleasing abandon, his sole purpose to rid himself of the insidious tickle that refused to leave his nose.

“Eah'Hischue”

Sara knocked on the door the same time she turned the knob, pushing it slowly open. Ben sat upright in bed, tissues clutched in his right hand but totally ignored as he sneezed openly toward his comforter.

“HAHK'Chff. AHP-Gnkxt.”

Ben heard something -- the door, the knock, the flood of fresh air into his ‘sick bed’ -- and stopped, looking up, trying to make eye contact with Sara. He succeeded for a moment before plunging his face into his elbow (this time) appropriately trying to stifle the sneezes which would not release their hold on him.

“AHP-Gnkxt ... nx'Ihff... eish'Gkxt.”

Ben seemed to waver, his breath hitching and his eyes wet as he tried to regain control. Feeling that this was an important moment of ‘empowerment’ Sara offerred simply “Bless you,” and went back to the living room to unpack her bag.

Ben sniffed experimentally. He failed. Looking over at the nightstand he saw the two nyquil liquigels Sara had left him along side a glass of water. He palmed the pills, swallowing them quickly and downing the glass of water before setting it back down. Looking at the clock he saw it read 12:15 am. He wasn’t sure but he thought he was supposed to have taken his pills earlier.

‘No matter,’ he thought, ‘I’m sure I took them an hour ago. In fact, I’m feeling much better again.”

Trying to vocalize that last line of encouragement to himself Ben floundered, his voice cracking over ‘feeling’ and ‘muchg bedder,’ his endorsement sounding like a line from a bad Claritin commercial.

‘Ok. Maybe not ready for the vocal denial,’ he thought.

[Ciuty80]

uuhhhwwaaahhh

an update

awwww ben is so cute

[obsessed]

aw, I missed this! I was wondering where you went off to.

Nice to see more. <3

[SomethingClever]

NO. WAY. Thanks for the update, totes made my life...

[jezebel215]

Part 27

Sara gave Ben a whole minute of silence before knocking on his bedroom door.

“Hey” he called out haphazardly, ‘Yes’ or ‘Come in’ seeming woefully inappropriate for the moment.

Still, Sara opened the door slowly, not wanting to invade. Her eyes took in Ben’s lean form under the comforter, his dark curls once again plastered to his forehead, his face in an uneasy configuration that signaled to Sara he was about to sneeze but still didn’t realize it.

“Hey yourself,” Sara answered, not sure if the husky turn of her voice would clue Ben in on anything. ‘Not’ was a safe bet.

“I grabbed my stuff for tomorrow, I have an easy day of classes,” Sara spurted off quickly.

“Yeah, mine aren’t too bad either,” Ben said, pushing himself up to rest on one elbow. “Only --

eh.. heh.. hck'Gishoo poli-sci tutorial and twentieth century American ---”

Ben didn’t get a chance to finish. Sara had walked confidently toward the bed, the sly look of a hunter playing easily across her features.

“Seriously?” she asked.

Ben didn’t answer.

“No, seriously?” she asked again. “One day. Take one day off. You look like ass and I don’t think you’re going to be pop-tart perky in twelve hours.”

Ben sighed. Well, tried to sigh. He took a deep breath, irritated something deep in his bronchi and ended up hunched over and coughing. It hurt from his throat to his ribs to the muscles of, well, everywhere. Gasping for air he hadn’t noticed that Sara had crossed the distance from the doorway to his bed and was sitting next to him, her hand already rubbing warm circles across his aching back. He didn’t mean to but he felt himself folding, bending under her hands, every inch of him creeping closer to those warm fingers, that sweet --

“Ap-Eshu”

Ben’s sneeze broke the reverie.

“Okay,” he said, sniffling deeply. I guess I can miss one day-” he stopped, running back over the course syllabi in his head, trying to decide if he really could afford to miss one day.

Sara smiled. “One day now and you’re all better soon. Keep going like an idiot, who knows where you’ll end up.” Her words could have been harsh but the smile on her face told a different story.

“Idiot, huh?” Ben rasped.

“Misguided fool perhaps? Stubborn protagonist?”

“And you say you’re a science major.”

“What, other people know what the work ‘protagonist’ mean” Sara said sharply, not actually offended but loving their playful dialogue. “The real question is: do you know what ‘sequellae’ are?”

Ben looked at her blankly.

“It’s the health consequences of not treating a primary infection.”

Ben still looked blank.

“Whatever. You know what I mean,” Sara said, knowing that Ben didn’t but slipping into her comfort phrase without thinking.

“No, not really. But I think it might have been an insult, so I don’t need a precise definition.” Ben’s voice sounded better, a dusky timbre as opposed to the rasping sound he had made earlier. He smiled, pleased with the sound of his own voice. “See? I sound better already.”

Sara shook her head, smiling, as she walked out of the bedroom.

In the bathroom she changed into her sleep shorts and tank, pulling Ben’s sweatshirt back on at the last moment. Looking in the mirror she caught a glimpse of herself -- hair not quite blonde, looking sweet, maybe cute even, but not hot, not-- She caught herself and looked away, stopping her thoughts before they could reach their final destination. ‘I’ll be happy my legs are shaved and leave it at that,’ she thought, pulling a brush through her hair and splashing water on her face.

“Move over.”

Sara had finished in the bathroom and walked back into the bedroom. Ben was mostly on one side of the bed, but really on 2/3 of it, an unacceptable formation for dual sleepage. He looked at her groggily.

“Yes, you. Scootch sick boy, you’re taking up the whole bed.”

Ben looked down awkwardly, sliding himself perilously close to the edge of the bed and trying not to look embarrassed.

“I didn’t say roll yourself out of bed, I just said leave me a spot,” Sara said, laughing lightly at Ben’s scramble to distribute the bed space evenly. Ben smiled, almost smirked, really.

“Well? Did I make all this space for nothing?”

“No, you didn’t.”

Sara walked to the far side of the bed and slid under the covers. Ben shivered as the room air hit his skin but tried to ignore it. Sara chose to ignore it as well. He rolled over, facing Sara in the middle of the bed.

“Comfy?”

Sara smiled, not shy but momentarily giddy. Too much tension, not enough sleep, left her pulled tight along the edges of her ‘cool.’

“I’m good.”

She and Ben looked at each other, the moment growing long until Sara said,

“I’m putting my earplugs in. And turn off the lights! I need more dark than this to sleep.”

Ben rolled over, reaching the light easily and switching it off. His room was not totally dark, the soft glow of the telephone pole lights slipped in through the thin material of his curtains. He pulled the blankets more tightly around his shoulders and closed his eyes, the sound of Sara’s even breaths a metronome -- back and forth, back and --

Ben may have been sleeping quietly but Sara felt like she was dying -- the bed, the blankets, the room, it was all too still. She slipped out of Ben’s sweatshirt, trying not to let cool air under the blankets. It didn’t help. She was still too hot. She slid out of bed, glancing at Ben as she walked to the closet. He was dead to the world, it seemed, and likely to stay that way.

In the closet Sara found a light summer sheet. She hurried back to the bed and lay down on top of the comforter, the sheet flapping slightly above her. What she would give to be able to open the window...

It took a while until the sound of Ben’s thick breathing, the cool layer of the sheet on top of her and the stress of the day overwhelmed her. Sara fell asleep.

~ ~ ~

Sara woke suddenly, looking around at the unfamiliar room and strange bed she found herself in. Sitting up she shivered and realized she was covered in sweat.

“What the ?”

The room fell into focus around her, familiarity taking the edge off her rising panic. Appraising herself critically Sara realized that yes, she was cold and sweaty but no, nothing else felt bad. She sniffed -- fine there, and swallowed -- still not sore. So why was she all sweaty?

Ben.

Sara was on top of the blankets but she had rolled toward the center of the bed. She was aware of the intense heat streaming into her back, enveloping her, making the bed a sauna. Sara checked the clock -- 2:43 am. She sighed; running a hand through her sweat soaked hair, and sat up.

“Hey.”

Ben didn’t move. ‘No surprise there,’ Sara thought but she reached over, shaking his shoulder until his eyes fluttered open, the glassy stare unnerving her in the early morning.

“I think your fever’s spiking,” Sara said, knowing Ben wasn’t really understanding what she was saying, but saying it anyway. “I’m going to get you some Nyquil.”

Sara walked quickly to the living room, grabbing Ben’s glass on her way out of the bedroom, her bag of supplies spread out over the coffee table. She looked through it and grabbed 2 nyquil liquigels before filling Ben’s glass with water. She stopped and looked at the clock again. 2:45? Ben wasn’t due for more meds for another 4 hours. Sara turned off the faucet and started opening drawers. She found what she was looking for on the fifth try -- a nice, soft dishtowel. She ran it under the water, wetting it fully before squeezing it out into the sink. She opened the freezer and took two ice cubes out of the tray. She unfolded the dishtowel and wrapped it around the ice cubes. She could feel it growing colder in her hands, the heat leaching out of the water into the ice, drawing it back into liquid form.

“HAHK'Chff.”

Sara’s head jerked up and toward the bedroom.

“Ack-Chsch. AHP-Gnkxt.”

‘So apparently he’s back to stifling’ she thought wryly and walked back through the living room. She tossed the foil twin-pack of nyquil back onto the table, spreading out the supplies more thoroughly, this time looking for something homeopathic.

‘Tea. More damn tea.”

Sara left the tea on the table. The cloth was cold in her hands and the ice cubes had melted. She stopped quickly to wring out the towel in the bathroom sink then strode forward to the bed.

Ben had pushed himself into a half sitting position. He hadn’t turned on the lights or done anything else really. Crossing the entry she found him hunched over, nose buried in his elbow, his sleep shirt tacked to his skin with sweat.

“HH-Hft. Heht-Gxt.”

“Bless you.”

Ben looked up, his watery eyes seemed to flick between confusion and recognition until it was not longer relevant and he turned away, eyes staring at the corner before hunching over into his elbow and sneezing again.

“eish'Gkxt.”

Ben hovered in the unwieldy position, waiting to see if his nose had given up for the moment, or if he had. He inhaled slowly and sat up with growing confidence, his nose once again under control.

“Thanks,” he said. “Why are you--”

“I’m sorry I--”

Sara and Ben stopped, their words trampling each others. Sara kept quiet and looked pointedly at Ben.

“Why are you up?” he asked. His voice rasped over the consonants but he managed to disguise the worst of it by whispering.

“I woke up because I was hot,” Sara offered simply.

Ben stared at her, trying to muster the energy to make some sort of obvious innuendo but managing in the end nothing more than a half-raised eyebrow. It failed, standing in contrast with the red rising in his cheeks and the drops of sweat forming on his forehead as he struggled to sit upright.

“Hot hot, dumb ass. Like sweaty, you’re burning up the bed hot.” Sarcasm and teasing. Her safe method of communication. Ben looked around, finally reaching his hand out from under the covers to feel his own forehead.

“I don’t feel hot,” he said earnestly, earning him his biggest scowl yet from Sara.

“Really? You don’t feel hot? And what are you using for comparison here? The invisible thermometer beside you? Some sort of magical poli-sci major powers of observation?”

That last comment snuck out in frustration and Sara wished she could take it back. She had a prejudice against majors that weren’t biology, chemistry or physics. It was relatively unreasonable, she knew, but it snuck out when she wasn’t paying attention. She just couldn’t comprehend that there were whole disciplines of learning centered on subjects she just didnt’ care about. Talk about egotistical.

Ben hadn’t noticed. He was trying to find an item for comparison and reached out, grasping the bed side table.

“OK. I feel warmer than the table. But I don’t think that means much,” he offered up, faltering on his ridiculous logic. Sara could see the fog of sleep rising from his eyes, the spark of awareness not fully dimmed by illness.

“No. You should feel warmer than the inanimate table. I am pleased that you are maintaining your endothermic status. I just wish your hypothalamus would chose a number more consistent with normal human homeostasis.”

Sara delivered her speech in a rush, the words tumbling out against her permission. She sagged against the doorway, exhausted. Ben could see her shift, seeming to collapse inward ever so slightly. It frightened him, he realized, more than anything he had felt so far.

“Come here,” he said lopsidedly, patting the bed beside him. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot.” He could see Sara re-inflate, ready again to take control of the situation. It felt good, he realized, to let someone take care of him. So he let the silence stretch out, his hand ill at ease on top of the covers, longing to pull them up over his shoulders and curl up again in the haze of warmth that had kept him asleep for this long.

Still he stayed there. It was only moments, but sometimes moments are enough. Sara found herself walking toward him, pushing him over so she could perch on the side of the bed, pulling the comforter up over his shoulders as a full body shiver escaped his control.

Haltingly, she laid a hand on his forehead.

“Geez woman, your hand is like ice” Ben exclaimed. Sara smiled.

“That makes sense, I have been holding ice cubes,” She said, remembering the cloth in her hands. “Lie down, I think this will make you feel better.”

Ben complied and Sara found herself reaching over him, laying the cold dish towel across his head with the reverence of some holy ceremony. She could see him tense up as the cloth touched his skin. His face showed a quiver of discomfort until feeling broke through and his body could feel the hot sweeping through it and instead sought the cold. 


Sara’s hand lay on top of the towel. She knew she should take it away, that she was only sucking the coolness out of the cloth with her presence. She still couldn’t move. She felt Ben shiver then still, seeming to arch up into her hand, his face unreadable.

As they sat there Ben slid down to a reclining position and as it grew awkward, Sara hopped over him to her half of the bed, holding the cloth in place. She could feel the cloth grow warmer until it felt like there was nothing against her hand. She sat up, pulling the cloth away.

Ben had reached some sort of interlude, the cool weight on his forehead dragging him down toward sleep. Its absence felt like a brand placed across his forehead and he opened his eyes, scanning the room until he saw Sara, a shadow in the doorway.

“I’m just going to rewet it,” she said softly. “I’ll be back. Close your eyes.”

Ben closed his eyes, feeling relief that Sara was in control and yet aghast at his eagerness to let her take control. This was not his normal demeanor, he thought. I’m not normally so, jello-like. His mind stumbled over these facts, reconciling them as Sara appeared in the doorway. Edges are easily shaved off jello he thought, and perhaps he was too harsh normally.

The cool cloth on his forehead felt like heaven and more so, the feeling of Sara’s body slipping to bed next to him. The air had cooled and in her tank and shorts, Sara felt pleasingly cool, ready to be under a comforter. Again, without letting in cold air, she found herself gliding under the covers.

Ben lay on his side, body curved toward the door. He had turned his head dutifully upward to make a stable platform for his cold cloth. As Sara slid into bed a gust of cool air had reached him and he shivered violently, trying to contain it and failing. The cool cloth on his head felt suddenly like it was leaching the very life out of him and Ben shook his head, tossing the cloth on the bedside table. Sara jerked at the sound of rag hitting the wood.

“Sorry.”

Her voice broke the darkness. Ben said nothing, had nothing to say. He was spent, totally exhausted. Even as the silence stretched longer Sara could think of nothing to fill it. Instead she let instinct take over and she crept toward the center of the bed. She could feel Ben’s quaking form next to her and she wrapped her arms around him, curling her legs along this back of his knees, his back to her chest. Her hands snaked around to the front reaching tentatively for his fingers to twine with hers. She found them easily and tucked her hands into his.

Ben’s breathing had calmed, the tremors rising through his body with ever decreasing frequency. He could feel himself falling, a combination of vertigo and willful abandon, begging sleep to take him away. Sara lay curled against him, her skin burning where it touched his, her arms wrapped around his chest almos too much to bear.

‘This is so nice,’ Sara thought, but she really hoped she didn’t screw anything up, that she could enjoy this memory forever.

Ben stirred, turning over, his face inches from Sara’s.

“Thank-you,” he said. His eyes were piercing in the soft light of the room.

“I want to ,” Sara answered, ‘you’re welcome’ seeming somehow not the appropriate response.

Their faces lay inches apart, Sara’s arms still wrapped around Ben, feeling now his arms snaking around her.

“Thank-you,” he said again, his eyes staring into her, pulling her into him. Sara made a soft noise of surrender, easily attributed the scrape of branches across the window, as Ben leaned forward, his warm dry lips pressing against her own.

Sara couldn’t breath couldn’t think couldn’t -- she was already doing something, rising into Ben’s kiss, her tongue seeking his, each eager to taste as much of the other as they could. A dam had burst and for a moment the thundering water obscured everything else.

Ben pulled away, his eyes closed, a glaze of discomfort spread across his features. Sara knew what she was seeing and was emboldened enough by the last few moments to play with Ben. She closed the distance between them, her lips touching his softly. He couldn’t help himself--he responded, the sensations from his nose ignored in this moment of bliss.

Until.

He pulled himself away from Sara, managing only to turn his head to his shoulder before sneezing roughly,

“NHX-Gusch. Ack-Chsch.”

Ben inhaled shakily and found himself looking into Sara’s eyes. “Don’t stifle you idiot, you’ll blow out your eardrums,” she whispered and sat up, running her finger along Ben’s sensitive nose.

“No,” Ben muttered breathily. “You’re going to make me ...” At this point his breathing became so ragged he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“heh...Heh.. Eah'Hischue. HH'Haschoo. heh...hhh-hush'Etsch.”

Ben had turned away quickly, his aim for his shoulder deflecting about 40% of the volley of sneezes Sara’s touch had wrought.

He sniffed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rolling back to face her. Sara’s eyes were glittering and, though he couldn’t be sure, Ben thought a sheen of sweat had broken across her own forehead.

“I told you not to stifle. It’s bad for your ears.”

Sara’s voice was husky but Ben was quickly losing his ability to discern subtlety.

“So you’re not--”

He let the question stand, no need to elaborate further. To answer Sara reached over, her fingers wraking across his skin, the rise of his cheekbones and soft fullness of his lips, before losing themselves in his hair. Sara pulled Ben closer, their faces inches apart, his still locked in indecision. Sara’s hands traced slow circles on Ben’s scalp, slowly running down the natural lines of his hair, all the while drawing his face inexorably to hers.

When they were inches apart Sara looked Ben in the eye, waited for him to acknowledge it.

“I’m not,” she said and bent forward, her lips sinking softly against Ben’s.

~ ~ ~

[SomethingClever]

oh. my. god.

that was so perfect I cant even type

I love them

I love them

I love them

and now I'm going to read the entire thing over again

maybe twice

or three times

gahhhhh

[LetMeBe]

NICELY DONE! I'm loving the way this has developed.

[obsessed]

KISSKISSKISSKISSKISS. THEY KISSED.

ahhhh! I'm so excited.

Re-reading time.

OHSNAP I'm late, sorry! D:

[jezebel215]

Part 29

The crush of Sara’s lips into Ben’s felt surreal. His lips grew warm beneath her and she opened her mouth to touch him, to taste him. Ben felt slightly adrift in the moment, feeling only the smooth rub of Sara’s lips against his own. He opened his mouth greedily, his tongue sweeping across the magin of her teeth, flitting through her mouth with a willful abandon. She was meeting him, opening his mouth wider only to find herself nipping at his lips.

Ben seemed to glow. Sara’s hands were already snaked around his waist. They rose higher, weaving in and out of his scapular muscles, tracing hard circles across the epaxial and hypaxial muscles of his back, her touch eliciting a groan of pleasure as she pulled his body closer to hers.

Ben’s breath caught. Sara’s hands had played magic up and down his spine. Her body in his hands was a sacred jewel he could scarce believe he was holding. His hands explored the rise of her shoulders, the slight dip of her back, all the while pulling her closer to him.

Sighing, Sara laced her arms around Ben’s neck, her eyes hazy in the 3am light. She opened her eyes widely, her lips parted slightly, a glint in her eyes signalling to Ben an invitation which he eagerly accepted. They fell together again, hands grasping wildly as they pulled themselves together. Sara loved the feel of Ben’s hands around her waist, pulling her toward him. She arched into him, pulling his head back to hers and capturing his mouth with her lips.

He was in a trance. Some sort of drug induced happy dream where nothing was real Ben told himself. He pulled up, away from Sara. She stopped, uncertain. “I think i’m dreaming,” Ben announced.

“Is it a good dream?” Sara asked.

Ben smirked. “Yes,” he answered. Sara smiled and pulled his head back toward hers. His hair slipped through her fingers and she felt his hands tracing her back, sliding up to her shoulders then ever so gently to her neck. He lay his fingers across her face with a sort of reverence, a stillness in the midst of the urgency that made Sara shake, the intensity dragging her back into his embrace.

Ben’s fingers were hot against her skin. Sara’s mouth trapped Ben’s beneath hers, her tongue exploring, meeting his own, dueling in sorts. She couldn’t breathe and she didn’t want to.

Ben couldn’t stop. Sara’s body felt like velvet beneath him and he kept following the lines of her muscles and curves. As she leaned into him he felt revived, his senses awakened and tingling at the feel of his lips against hers. The smooth crush of lip on lip and then the building warmth behind it. Ben plunged his tongue deep into Sara’s mouth, meeting her own and they sparred, their lips pushed hard against each other, their breath hot in each others ears.

Sara could feel the change immediately and pulled off of Ben. She stopped and pulled back. Ben’s head fell the short distance from Sara’s hands to her legs, not in any way rough but an incalculable distance in intimacy.

He looked so wounded she could have flayed herself alive for her loss of control. She sat up, trying to catch her breath, to get control again. Even still her hands played across Ben’s scalp, tracing again slow circles into the night.

Ben was in a daze. He felt like he had trapped something rare and wondrous within his arms, his lips and at the same time, he felt like the world was falling away from him, the ceiling and walls growing hazy, his limbs nothing but a distant weight. He fought against it, grabbing every sensation until he couldn’t...

Sara held Ben slack in her arms. She opened her eyes immediately, her focus completely on Ben. His eyes were closed but he took a deep breath and opened them, staring straight into hers.

“I’m sleepy” he mumbled, slapping Sara out of her eagerness to play out her fantasies with a sick boy.

“I know. I’ll go, I’ll let you sleep.” The words rushed out of her as Sara practically leapty out from under the covers, gathering her sleep sheet around her like a shroud.

“Where are you going?” Ben asked, true befuddlement on his face. “I don’t want you to go. I want all of you cuddled up here so that when I feel better” -- he paused, staring Sara straight in the eye -- “I can ravish you.”

Sara couldn’t help but laugh. She lifted the blankets and got back into bed, turning to face Ben.

“Ravish me, eh?”

Ben sighed. “Give a sick guy a break. This is a long term plan i’m working on, I’m not going to have it put together in a few days.”

Sara melted. Well, melted more since she was really nothing but a spill on the comforter by this point. Ben looked at her, his eyes bleary and unfocused yet searching, seeing---

The light in the room left little visible but the shine of his eyes and still Sara found herself unable to look away. Outside she could hear the scrape of leafless branches against the side of the house, could practically smell the tannins in the air. She lay there, eyes locked with Ben’s, her hands still on the nape of his neck. They buzzed, aching to move across Ben, to map out the contours of his body beneath her hands. Unmoving they seemed to catch fire, the urge growing until she allowed herself a moment to remind him of her presence. She ran her fingertips gently along his scalp, finishing with his chin cupped in her hand, her thumb soft against his cheekbone.

Silence, but not uncomfortable.

For his part, Ben was transfixed, the dim light and soft touch of Sara’s hand pulling him farther into a dream world than he could bear. Sara saw his eyes change from meeting hers to staring through her. She rubbed his cheek with her thumb, drawing him closer to her, a mewl of empathy ushering from her lips.

“You should sleep,” she said finally. “I should sleep too,” she added, smiling. It was 3am at this point and although the surge of endogenous catecholamines was likely to keep Sara spinning in place, Ben needed a better night’s rest.

“uhm..hm,” Ben mumbled his assent but at the same time reached hsi hands around Sara’s waist, pulling her lithe body toward him. Before she could think Sara gasped, the raw heat of Ben’s body and the blankets waking her up fully. For his part, Ben was fading fast. He could see Sara startle and didn’t know what he had done but as he tried to think he came up with nothing but a warm haze.

Sara could see his confusion and curled back into his embrace. “Close your eyes. I’m going to go get you the cold cloth and then we’ll both sleep,” she said. Before she could change her mind Sara rolled away from Ben, slipping out of the bed while holding the blankets down. She retrieved Ben’s handtowel from where he had shrugged it onto the night table. Sara grabbed it and walked to the bathroom.

Late or not the emptiness of the bathroom surprised Sara. The echo of her own breath on tiles contrasted with the bathroom in her dorm. It couldbe 4am and it still wouldn’t be quiet. Annoying at first but now just a part of living in the dorms. The stillness of the apartment felt foreign and Sara rushed to get back to the bedroom.

[obsessed]

oooh, more jezelbel215 writing! Melikey.

[jezebel215]

sorry to be so long. school has been crazy and this has been a really difficult time for me -- my grandfather died and I'm having trouble dealing with it. But school goes on and I'm trudging along with it. I miss Sara and Ben but every time I get ready to write about them I fall asleep. So enjoy -- much angst, little sneezing, more of me right now.

-josey

Part 29

Ben’s eyes were closed but they opened as she entered. Sara held up the cloth and he nodded slightly, closing his eyes and turning to lie on his back. Sara walked quickly to the side of the bed, hoping to disguise the skip in her step with uninvested interest. She climbed up onto the bed, sliding over Ben and stopping ever so slowly to place to the cloth across his forehead.

He shivered then lay still. Sara kept her hand on the cloth, gentle pressure across Ben’s brow and he he sighed softly, what would have been a smile stealing across his face but asserting itself only at the upturn of his lips, a contraction of his zygomaticus major and, should he have been awake a matching contraction of his orbicularis oculi.

A smile.

Ben made a soft sound, a moan of neither pleasure nor pain as he pushed his head into the cool touch of Sara’s hand.

“Go to sleep” Sara ordered, her voice a whisper in the quiet of the room.

“Mhnuhhmmm. Sleeping.”

Sara could feel Ben’s body relax and his breathing grow regular. She slipped out of bed and walked to the kitchen where she pulled out a bottle of whiskey from her backpack. Why had she brought it? She didn’t know, or didn’t want to admit. But no amount of darkness or time would let her fall asleep in this moment.

Opening the cabinets she found a glass and poured herself a double. Though it unnerved her, Sara had found that she preferred whisky to other hard liquors, though not so much that she could drink it straight without a chaser. She opened Ben’s refrigerator and pulled out the orange juice she had brought earlier. She poured an inch into a second glass.

Sara walked to the couch holding one glass in each hand. She positioned herself to look out the window, seeing a slice of sky underlit by the street lamps. The wind had not stilled and the branches continued to grate against the windows. Ever so often a draft of cool air slipped across the room, making Sara wonder about Ben’s weatherproofing in general.

Not that she should mind! Sara wasn’t even sure if she had ever changed a storm window (or, to be truthful, what a storm window was - there were glass windows and screen windows and beyond that she really wasn’t sure.) But the thought of Ben on this couch, the November wind

raking across the room...

Enough. Sara downed the whiskey in one swallow followed quickly by the orange juice. She cringed, the vapor of hard liquor heavy in her exhalations. But it was only a moment before she felt the warmth start to fill her chest. All the edges around her felt softer.

Sara sat on the couch for another ten minutes. She listened to the wind outside, loving every moment of it until she could stand it no longer. She pulled back on Ben’s sweatshirt, slipped into her shoes and crept downstairs. She opened and shut the door to Ben’s appartment quickly then walked out into the road. It was close to 3 am and the streets were empty. Sara could feel the whiskey in her stomach, a ball of fire melting her from the inside out. Looking around the sky was not black but deep purple, the stars pinpricks of white in a sea of navy.

Sara loved trees, old trees especially. The oak tree in Ben’s front lawn looked to be at least 60 years old and she wandered toward it, her hands raking across the deep grooves in its bark. There were few leaves left on the tree and those that remained struck her with a sort of tenacity. Sara walked back into the house, up the stairs and poured herself another double with an orange juice chaser. Too much alcohol? Probably. But alcohol kills germs and orange juice has vitamin C so really, she reasoned, this was a prophylactic measuire.

Back outside Sara sat at the base of the oak tree. Both glasses grew cool in her hands and the fire of the past whiskey had dimmed to embers, letting the November air sneak under her sweatshirt. It was so quiet here, so damn beautiful. You live someplace and it becomes a part of you but you get used to it. No matter how you try you can’t spend every moment in abstract contemplation of beauty. So she enjoyed this moment, alone in the dark, looking up at the sky, feeling the cold wind scrape across her face and her fingers grown numb.

Try as she might Sara could not make figures out of the stars. There were too many and the subtlety of star magnitudes eluded her. Perhaps, she mused, were there no television, no books, no stories, perhaps then would she see heroes in the sky and the great battles of ancient lore spun bright across the heavens.

Sara shook her head, downed her whiskey and orange juice and shook her head. This whole evening was too confusing. She was happy, that is, she thought she was happy. This whole weekend was magic to her sneezy, cold-ridden fantasies. But more than that, these moments snuck up on her, when the whole world seemed to still and everything was laid out so clearly ahead of her, a path of dim stars into the horizon.

Sara shivered. She had been outside for close to an hour -- the whiskey had erased the minute hand of her internal clock. Regardless, it was late and she had class the next day. And Ben. Scrambling upwards Sara practically shot into the house. She had left him alone for almost two hours. Or maybe a little over one hour. Either way, it was too long.

~ ~ ~

Back upstairs Sara washed her glasses and set them out to dry. Her hands felt like ice even after the warm water of the sink and she reckoned she had spent just a wee bit too long outside. No matter, cold was a safe place for her. It was heat that scared her, heat that made everything around her too alive, too everything. The cold and the dark, the solitude, that was where she was safe.

Sara put the glasses out on the dish rack and dried her hands on the towel by the sink. She shivered and touched her hands to her cheeck, surprised at how icy they felt. She walked softly back to Ben’s bedroom. He hadn’t moved, it seemed, except to turn sideways. His cold cloth had fallen to the floor and even from the door Sara could see sweat beading on his forehead.

Crossing the distance to the bed quickly Sara slipped under the covers. Ben stirred, eyes glassy and concerned.

“Where were you?”

“Outside,” Sara answered. To try to explain herself would have taken more words than she knew.

“Oh.” Ben slipped into silence. Sara reached over and felt his forehead. To her cold hands it fellt like heaven even as Ben flinched.

“Woman, those are hands of ice and don’t try to tell me any different,” he rasped, catching her eyes to smile.

“You’re right. I’m cold. Warm me up,” she said, slipping her arms around Ben’s waist. Again she painted her legs to the back of his profile, and tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

“Why are you so cold?” Ben asked. "Do I need to fix my windows?”

Sara laughed out loud at Ben’s last concern.

“No silly. I needed some time to think. I sat outside for a little while. Besides. You’re too damn hot to sleep with and I needed to cool off.”

Sara and Ben looked at each other, both hearing the double inuendo in her words. Sara blushed and Ben decided to let it slide. Well, mostly let it slide.

“Hot, eh?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sara replied, exasperated. “I thought we had covered this earlier. You are a hot hot pile of burning love. Now move over and give me some blankets.”

Ben felt woozy, his fever making him unsure of his own thoughts. Sara felt woozy too, the effects of four shots of whiskey in an hour.

“Slide over, sick boy. My hands and feet are cold but the rest of me is falling off the bed.”

Ben obligued eagerly, his clumsy scuffling making a beam of warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with Jack Daniel’s.

“OK, OK, stop. We each have half a bed. I’m sorry I woke you up, try to go back to sleep,” Sara said, her arms tightening around Ben’s waist as she spoke. She curled her legs into the back of his, shadowing his body in profile. Ben was already half asleep. If Sara had been cold when she got in bed, she was warm now and he felt coccooned.

“OK. M’sleepig,” Ben muttered, unhappy to hear the congestion back in his voice. Sara sighed. Ben’s voice had set her back on the road to ‘hot and bothered’ again but she refused to finish she voyage.

“Sleep tight, sick boy,” she said lightly, turning away from their spooning position and lying instead back to back. Ben felt her absence immediately but didn’t want to pressure her. Sara clutched a spare pillow to her chest and started counting, waiting for the whiskey, the hour, the ritual to give her peace.

~ ~ ~

Sara woke suddenly, grasping the sides of the bed and pulling herself into a defensive. position, knees tucked into her chest.

“Ack-Chsch.”

She could feel her adrenalin dissipating and unentangled herself from the bedsheets.

“HAHK'Chff. hck'Gishoo. heh--”

Ben had felt her movements and stopped short in the midst of sneezing. Well, stopped for a moment.

“HH-Hft. HCK-Epft. NHX-Gusch.”

He waited a moment then met her eyes with a watery gaze.

“Good bordig,” he said then turned, raising his elbow to shield his face.

“eish'Gkxt. heh...heh... HH'Haschoo.”

Ben shook his head briefly then raised his eyes to look at Sara. She looked like some sort of forest sprite, her hair mussed and eyelids heavy with sleep.

“God bless you,” she said.

[sillystarsmoons]

I'm just caught up on this amazing story. I'm sorry about your grandfather. but great chapter I can't wait to read more soon.

[SomethingClever]

oh Ben and Sara...

[ichixshiro14]

This fic is an amazing work of art, thanks so much for sharing it! I'm so sorry to hear about the trials in your life right now, I hope that things get better for you soon hon.

By the way, "Maybe it touched something inside her, the feeling of not belonging, of not knowing how to belong. The loss of his world and the pain of an old, lonely man, waiting for his pet crow to come back.

Sara saw herself in him, the void of being surrounded by people and horribly alone."

I can soooo relate to that I really look forward to more from this story, it definitely in my top faves, but take as much time as you need Thanks so much!

[jezebel215]

again, a long time. School continues to kick my ass but I'm almost done for the year. Since I've drunk enough caffeine that going to bed is not all that likely at this point and because I wanted to I wrote more. I am not sure how I want the story to end, only that there are things I want Sara and Ben to do that they haven't done yet. No sneezing in this part. But some nice fever talk.

Part 30

Glancing at the clock Sara could see it was 7:58. Great. 2 minutes before the alarm went off, just enough time to lie in bed and get tired again before the real thing hit. Better to just get it done with. Untangling herself from Ben, Sara hopped out of bed and around to the side table to turn off the alarm before it rang. Ben mumbled something and blinked a few times. Sara stilled at his side and stroked his forehead, running her fingers through his hair, digits outlining small circles along his scalp. Ben’s eyes closed as he half smiled, yielding to her touch even as sleep brought him back to oblivion.

~ ~ ~

Sara got dressed quickly and quietly. She didn’t want to wake Ben up and she didn’t want any inane arguments about his going to school. She left a note on the kitchen table.

“Orange juice in the fridge. Nyquil on the counter. You can take two if it’s after 10am when you’re reading this. Now do whatever you got up to do and go lie back down! I’ll see you after chem lab. It should be about 3:00.”

~ ~ ~

Sara walked down the stairs and out into the cool morning. It was hard to drag herself away from her fantasy weekend and she realized she had no story to tell any of her friends, not plausible scenario to explain her abscence since friday night. No matter. They’d probably believe her if she said she was watching Bravo’s all day America’s Next Top Model marathon and leave it at that.

It was funny, if she had had a normal weekend in which the highlight really was watching ANTM for 16 hours straight she would have plenty to talk about. She lived in a world bounded strictly by the rules of grammar and concrete interpretation. So even when Sara knew what people were talking about often she found herself laughing at what they *actually* said. Or how lists are made. Or that “death” would be listed as a symptom of a disease.

‘A symptom? Isn’t that something about a horse and a cart’ Sara thought and smiled. She had reached the top of the hill next to her dorm room and could turn around to see the autumn’s brazen embellishment of the trees and leaves. It stretched farther than she could see and really, as far as she would want to. This was prime leaf-peeping season in the Berkshires--the week or two when the trees were a mix of true colors with the occasional leaf still green. The leaveshad stopped fixing carbon and the chlorophyll had begun to disintegrate, leaving only the carotene and xanthophyll pigments to give them color.

But at this moment it was still fresh. It wouldn’t stay that way Sara knew. She was new to the north but she grew up in a state with four well defined seasons. ‘They just weren’t defined quite so spectacularly’ she mused.

~ ~ ~

Arriving at chemistry with a few moments to spare Sara sat down in the row with her “science friends.” Not the front, not the back, somewhere in between. It didn’t really matter. If Sara had something to say in class she would ask regardless of where she sat. One of the nice things about growing up with people telling you how smart you are is that you are not afraid to look dumb. Naive, gullible or inexperienced-- they all stung but dumb? Not high on her list of doubts.

“Hey,” she said simply, smiling. A normal smile, she hoped, not the crazed giggly smile that threated to escape but a normal, friendly, monday morning school week smile.

“Hey,” Kathleen replied, “How was your weekend?”

Kathleen was Sara’s secret chemistry idol. That is, she was the student Sara wished she was but never could quite make herself be. The one who wanted to stay late at lab, who did all the homework and then checked the answers and then figured out what she got wrong, the one who liked doing research...

The question was mundane, tossed out in the informal ritual of greeting and Sara had worked hard on her reply.

“It was nice. How was yours?”

She was pretty sure she said the words slowly enough that they didn’t tumble over each other, that she didn’t sound high as a kite.

It must have passed for normal because Kathleen smiled and replied “Nice.”

Nice. Yes, it had been a very nice weekend.

~ ~ ~

Class oozed by with the speed of an endothermic reaction, never spontaneous and not producing any heat. Sara found herself more easily distracted than usual. Which, if she was honest, she could be easily distracted. She could focus if she had to but not today. Today they were leaving about reactions involving conjugated rings.

Conjugated... Sara hid a smile.

“can be deprotonated in a moderate base, leaving a phenolate anion.”

Deprotonated... no, she really didn’t have a second meaning for that word, only an inability to pay attention to the lecture in general. It seemed significant to her that they would be working with resonance structures--molecules with increased stability because they could be drawn in more than one molecular conformation. There were generally pairs although some could have three or more resonance structures.

Was this resonance? Sara wondered, finding a new stability while still being the same? She had always imagined falling in love as more of a bimolecular nucleophilic substitution reaction in which some handsome neutrophile sweeps in to her lonely, electron deficient life and BANG! new molecule. Of course, something had to leave in that equation. And even when she was lonely, Sara hadn’t quite figured out which part of herself she was going to give up.

~ ~ ~

Class ended. Sighing as she packed up her notebook she thought “I’m going to have to copy someone’s notes for today.” But she was absentmindedly smiling as she walked the quick switch to the genetics classroom. Sitting down she resolved to pay more attention in this class, if only to make time go faster. Because right now it was so slow she didn’t know how she would make it through chem lab.

‘Focus’ she thought. ‘You can do this. You love school.”

It was nearing the end of the semester and after learning about mismatch repair and open reading frames the current subject was Mendellian inheritance. Dominant, recessive, co-dominant--

Sara’s mind wandered. She tried but she never really came to class that day. She sat through genetics, even copied the notes written on the board into her notebook with a sort of automaticity that both thrilled and frightened her.

There was no bell in college. There were also no school lockers, home rooms or hall passes. Class ended and you got up and went to your next class. Sara dutifully packed her backpack and trudged across campus for her (gasp) english class.

It was a poetry course, a tour through contemporary american poetry, and even though it wasn’t science, it was probably Sara’s favorite course. Her professor was a gifted writer whose poems were crafted so sparsely and yet knowingly it twisted Sara’s heart. The thing that amused Sara was that in real life the woman was a complete stereotype of a ditsy poet. She wore a lot of natural fabrics and flowing material, had hair a little longer than most of the other senior teachers, had shown to have a large collection of statement jewelry pieces...

Sara was smiling as she pushed the door into the English building. It was old, a converted house unlike the science center which had barely reached it’s 10th birthday. Climbing upstairs you could smell the wood and history. Or maybe it was just dust. It smelled good to Sara. She walked toward the classroom and was surprised to see one of her classmates approaching her, going in the wrong direction. Sara looked at her questioningly.

“Class is cancelled. There’s a note on the door.”

Even though she believed her Sara still wanted to check. If she didn’t check she’d just fret that the other girl had been talking about something else or had misread the notes or -- Sara reached the door to the classroom and read the handwritten note taped to the door.

“Class cancelled. Professor tripped, hurt wrist. Is fine. Will be in class on thursday.”

For a moment the thought of her airy professor traipsing along in a long skirt through a meadow, not watching her steps... it was a cliche but it had happened and that was amusing. And of course, her professor was fine, so it was allowed to be funny.

As she turned around Sara realized she now had 2 free hours until chem lab. She had been worried about staying away from Ben for the usual one hour lunch break but she reasoned she wouldn’t have been able to walk there and back and eat and seem normal in under an hour. Two hours was a whole other story.

~ ~ ~

She had turned and started walking toward his appartment before Sara realized she had made up her mind. She concentrated on keeping her stride at a walk and not breaking into a mad run and becoming a backpack bouncing spectacle.

It was only 10 minutes but it took forever. And was much too fast for Sara to collect her thoughts. She opened the door and climbed the steps before she had time to agonize over her entrance. “I guess that’s progress” she thought to herself.

She knocked on the appartment door but opened it without really listening for a welcome. The appartment was as she had left it save for a bit brighter. Sara stood for a moment. Seeing the appartment as she had left it confirmed that the past 72 hours had happened in this reality, not in some solitary place buried deep in her own synapses. Two mugs were sitting, clean and dry, on the counter next to the sink, the tea kettle on the (turned off) stove.

She sighed, slipping off her backpack and tossing it unceremoniously to the chair next to her.

“Ben?” She called out. No answer. ‘Good, he’s asleep’ she thought and walked down the hall.

~ ~ ~

Sara pushed open the door to Ben’s room gently. She was so focussed on being quiet that she didn’t actually look at him until she was halfway to the bed. She didn’t like what she saw.

Ben looked worse than when she had left him. His hair had dried and he hadn’t sweat through his shirt but the flush on his checks suggested he was still running a fever, it just hadn’t broken. Sara perched on the edge of the bed and put the back of her hand on Ben’s cheek. It was much too hot.

“mmhmmm” Ben made a not-quite-a-word sound then smiled when he saw Sara.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself” Sara replied tersely, starting to worry again. “Did you take the nyquil I left? Have you drunk anything?”

Sara was unable to hide her urgency and the questions tumbled out before she took a breath. Ben looked more dazed, if that was possible.

“I took blue pills. kind of green really. but mostly blue and soft, like jello. And I drank a whole glass of orange juice.”

Ben finished his statement with the sort of innocent pride that betrayed he was really quite pleased with himself and was expecting some praise in return. Sara smiled. He was adorable. He denied being sick for almost two days but now that it was ok it seemed he was making every effort to be an optimal patient. Too bad his body didn’t seem to agree.

“That’s good. How do you feel?”

The following silence lasted just a little too long as Ben tried to construct an honest yet misleading reply. Instead Sara answered.

“That good, eh?” Her voice was softer than before, almost resigned.

“I feel about the same. Maybe a little hot. That’s good, right? If I feel hot my fever is gone, right? I should feel hot under all these blankets.”

Ben looked hopeful and yet showed no real signs of attempting to leave his bed.

“Yeah, probably good. Let’s check your temp just to be sure.”

Sara didn’t want to dishearten Ben but she didn’t want to lie either. She retrieved the thermometer from the bathroom, figuring it would be easier to learn the truth from a small machine than from her. The he could be angry at the thermometer. Sara smiled. Angry at the thermometer. And the tea. And the nyquil. And the cough drops. He could be angry at anything he wanted as long as he wasn’t angry at her.

~ ~ ~

103.1

Sara felt her heart sink. She reset the thermometer, told Ben it had said “error” and checked it again.

103.1

She didn’t say anything but Ben could tell it wasn’t a good number. He looked at her expectantly, ready for her answer. Sara couldn’t answer. She just handed the thermometer over to Ben.

A hundred and three. Point one. After medicine. A real fever. for more than two days. In an adult. These were all bad things. Not bad ‘you’re about to die’ bad but bad like ‘you should see a doctor’ bad.

“Is that higher or lower?” Ben asked.

“Higher.”

“A lot higher or a little higher?” he pushed.

Sara was quiet for a minute, trying to plan her phrasing to be both forceful and gentle.

“The actual number is only a little higher than it was before. But for your body it’s a lot higher. High enough I’d like for us to go to the health center sooner rather than later.”

Ben squinted at her.

“Don’t you have chem lab.”

Oh. Yeah. She did have chem lab. But not for another hour and a half. Maybe she could email the professor, switch to the thursday lab...

“Gimme a sec. I need to do something.” Sara walked to Ben’s desk and sat down, clicked on the internet icon and logged into her email. Then she stopped, turned back to Ben and asked

“May I use your computer?”

“Sure. Just don’t download any porn. That’s how you get viruses.” Ben tried to laugh at his own joke about porn, not even intending the double meaning. Sara laughed too and turned around.

“Oh, is that what happened to you?”

Ben looked at her, still smiling but confused.

“No, I just said not to do that.”

“No silly. I mean you, human you. Since what’s sharing space in your body right now is probably a virus.”

Sara hoped that was still true. It was unlikely Ben had a primary bacterial infection but he had been sick for long enough and wasn’t getting any better, signs Sara was starting to worry that whatever viral illness he may have started with had developed into something a little more serious.

“Oh. Like a virus I’m sick. That is funny.” Ben laughed but this time it ended in coughing. He stopped, it seemed, by sheer force of will before Sara could get out of the chair. “I’m OK. Do your computer thing.”

Oh yeah. Sara had totally forgotten why she was sitting at the desk. She sent an email to the lab instructor and the professor, explaining she had a sick friend she needed to take to the health center and would it be ok for her to switch this lab to another day. She typed quickly and loudly. That is to say, she typed the way she always typed.

Sara finished and walked down to the bed, sitting cross-legged on top of the comforter. She looked at Ben but said nothing. She just kept looking at him, hoping he would be the one to suggest it.

Although he was not at his cleverest Ben knew what Sara wanted. Knew it was the right thing to do. He still didn’t want to do it. ‘I’m an adult.’ he thought. ‘This is what adults do. They ask for help when they need it.’

“Health center?” he asked, grimacing afterward and absently rubbing his throat.

“Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.”

[sillystarsmoons]

I missed this fic, aww he's going to the health center I wonder what they will say? I can't wait for another chapter? This is great.