Welcome to Parenthood (The New Normal - Bryan and David, m/m)

[Selene]

3 hours ago, angora48 said:

David, unlike Bryan, saw no need to immediately change into his pajamas when he got home (“sick” pajamas or otherwise,) but he did admittedly change out of his work clothes, and it might be pointed out that the hoodie he changed into was suspiciously comfy.  But David wasn’t about to make concessions – it was in his closet, he put it on, no more.  Nothing to read into it about wanting to feel warm or cozy, nothing of the sort.

Oh, sweet stubborn denial, how I love thee!

 

3 hours ago, angora48 said:

Bryan trudged in from around the corner, coming up behind the couch and wrapping his arms around David.  “You ate, right?” he asked, kissing the top of David’s head.  “Tell be you ate.”

Bryan looking after David while being so miserable himself is just  *sigh*

 

Both of them are so adorably miserable, sick and sneezy at the moment, I really love all the fluff that's going on here!

 

 

[Elyze]

Wow, I'm very impressed at the rate you update this story!  It continues to be a wonderful story. I love how different the two men are and how they each deal with their illness in a different way while still trying their best to care for the other too (like I said earlier, I don't know the fandom so I'm reading without prior knowledge of the characters). And you weren't joking when you said you take your congested speech very seriously! I... just...  I like it, a LOT! 

[angora48]

Thanks for the comments!  I really enjoyed playing with how both of them would try to take care of the other while being sick themselves - I find that such a hot idea.    And helyzelle, when I write fics, I try to have them all or almost fully written before I start posting (to prevent myself getting busy/distracted halfway through and leave people with an unfinished story!)  That way, I can usually update everyday with an easy copy-and-paste - once I start posting, I just get too excited to slow down, hehe.

Without further ado, here's Part 12!

 

Bryan groaned heavily, coughing, as he slowly blinked awake to the screaming of his son in the next room.  The baby monitor had been on David’s nightstand since Bryan had gotten sick (now that David had a cold, too, Bryan should have moved it – why didn’t he think?), but even though it was only a few feet from Bryan and certainly loud enough to wake him, there was a weird fuzziness to it.  Echo-y almost, like he was hearing it from the other end of a tunnel.  There was static in his head, and nothing was coming into focus.

His baby was crying, he knew that.  But what next?  What else?  There was a ringing in his ears, or maybe that was just the pulsing throb of his headache.  His feet were tangled up in the bedsheet he’d kicked off, but he still felt sticky with sweat.  It felt like his throat had been rubbed raw, and his nose had been running messily – clumsily, he dipped his fingers in the half-empty water glass on his nightstand and tried to wipe his top lip clean.

He could hear, sort of distantly, David in bed beside him.  Sneezing a breathy “Hihhhhhhh-chiiaahhhhhh!” into his pillow, David didn’t seem to have any more sense of what to do than Bryan did.

Well, screw that.  Bryan could be firm and decisive, even when there was a solid chance that his brain was actually melting.  “I’ll go,” he announced to David, sounding croakier than he’d care to admit.  “You stay here; you’re sick.”

David let out a drowsy chuckle, followed by a few stifled coughs.  “You’re sicker,” he countered.

Bryan, though, had made up his mind and was already semi-successfully trying to roll himself out of bed.  “It’d dot about sebbadtics, David,” he replied, blasé/barely alive.  Stumbling unsteadily to his feet, he made his way carefully to the door. 

As he stepped into the hall, touching the wall for balance, he felt himself starting to gasp and slowed to a stop.  “HAAAAHHHHH-ehhhhhhh-shooooooo!” he sneezed, messily, into his hands.  “Ihhhhhh-hehhhhhhh-chiuuhhhhhhh!  Ahhhhhhh… hihhhhhh-eshhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHHH!”  Wiping his nose on the back of his hand (and then his hand on his pajama pants – everything was terrible and disgusting,) he moaned.

“Hey,” he said softly, slipping into the nursery, where Sawyer looked up from the crib with big tearful eyes.  “What’s all this about, huh?  Hehhhhhhh… ihhhhhh-huhhhhhhhhh-choooooo!”  He turned, sneezing into his shoulder.  “Dod’t bide Daddy Bryad,” he told Sawyer, picking up the baby and carrying him to the overstuffed chair in the corner.  “There’s a good chadce I’ll be dead by bordig.”

Sniffling, coughing, and generally miserable, Bryan curled up morosely in the chair.  However, he was nothing if not determined, so he fixed his attention on getting Sawyer back to sleep.  Despite his sickly feverish head and more sneezing than any human being should be reasonably expected to withstand, he gently rocked Sawyer.  And spoke to him in a soothing voice (well, soothing words – he had a sneaking suspicion that his voice sounded like gravel poured into a garbage disposal that was already clogged with pudding.)  And checked Sawyer’s diaper, which required a bit more investigation when he couldn’t smell anything.  And made up a story that might have had something to do with the view of the stars from the window but had to be at least 40% fever dream.  And stroked Sawyer’s cheek and rubbed his back.  And coughed and sneezed – not that that part helped with Sawyer, but it was going to happen whether Bryan liked it or not.

But Sawyer just kept on crying.  Not even the song worked, although that might’ve been because Bryan gave up after the second “mighty jungle” both because his sick voice sounded so ugly and because it hurt his throat too much to sing.  Bryan was so tired the room seemed to blur in and out of focus, but no matter what he did, Sawyer wouldn’t settle down.

“Cobe od, buddy,” he pleaded, so exhausted he didn’t care that his infant son had him over a barrel; he would meet any and all of Sawyer’s demands if the baby would just let him rest.  “I really deed you to go to sleep f- for Daddy… ahhhhhhh-hihhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHH!”

In response, Sawyer only wailed.  Bryan, completely fried, suddenly stifled a sob of his own, at a loss as to how to make it all just stop so he could crawl back into bed.  As soon as it happened, he felt dumb for having done it (despite understanding somewhere in his scrambled head that he couldn’t help it,) but even as he laughed, just a little and very wearily, at himself for being such a wimp, his eyes stayed wet.

It was maybe a minute or two later that David appeared in the doorway, looking tired and pale.  “Dohhhhhh,” Bryan moaned.  “I’ve got ih… haaaahhhhhhh-chiuuhhhhhh!”  He sneezed wetly into his hand.

“I doh you do,” David replied, stepping into the nursery.  “I’be just helping.”  Stifling a cough into his shoulder, he sat down on the arm of the chair and took Sawyer from Bryan, rocking him soothingly.

Bryan felt bad that David had gotten out of bed because he (Bryan) couldn’t get it together.  But honestly, he felt too sick and too exhausted to protest too much.  Coughing into his hands, he leaned wearily against David, who lightly skimmed Bryan’s damp cheek with his thumb, wiping away a few stray tears.  Bryan laughed sheepishly and sniffled.

“Hey, dod’t lissedd to addybody who says boys dod’t do that,” David said, turning to kiss the top of Bryan’s head.  “I hear those people are idiots.”

Bryan smiled a little, thinking back to the night last week when David must have heard him on the baby monitor telling Sawyer that.  Rubbing his nose drowsily, Bryan snuggled closer to his husband.  “I’be just tired,” he explained, clearing his throat.  Now that David was sick too, it wouldn’t do to let him handle everything with Sawyer, but getting teary over a cold didn’t exactly sell Bryan’s “I can help out!” message convincingly.

David half-muffled a “hhhhhhhhh-shhhhhuhhhhhhh!” into his shoulder, then slipped an arm around Bryan.  “Go back to bed, hud,” he instructed.

Yep – Bryan wasn’t doing much to demonstrate he could contribute.  “Doh,” he replied, maybe just the tiniest bit whiny.  “You go back to bed.”  But even as he said it, he didn’t really mean it, which David knew – Sawyer was still wide awake, but between the two of them, he’d stopped crying, and Bryan knew better than to quit something while it was working.

Somehow, by degrees, they managed to get Sawyer back to sleep.  It had only taken about 17 hours, and by then, Bryan was so tired he could barely see straight.  Exploding with a hard “HAAHHHHHH-ehhhhhh-SHOOOOOO!” as he stepped out into the hall (if the sound had woken Sawyer up again, Bryan really would’ve started crying,) Bryan was more than willing to let David slip an arm around his waist and guide him back to bed.

In the bedroom, David flopped down onto the mattress.  Muffling a sneeze into his pillow – “Ihhhhhhhhh-shhhhhhnnnhhh!” – he pulled the covers up around him.

“Are you cold?” Bryan asked as he climbed into bed beside him.

“A little,” David admitted.  He sneezed again, a stifled “hhhhhhh-nnnkkffff!” into his hand.

“Good,” Bryan murmured.  He sprawled across his husband, resting his cheek on David’s chest.  “I’be hot.  I’ll k-kee… Ahhhhhh-hihhhhhh-CHUHHHHHHH!”  He rubbed his nose, sniffling.  “…Keep you warb.”

Bryan could hear the fond smile in David’s voice as he said, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bryan mumbled hazily.  “I got you…”  And then he was drifting, nodding off to the slow rise and fall of David’s chest.

[Selene]

An update! Yessss! And already the first paragraph had this gem in it. Both super adorable and funny (I was just typing add funny --- the stuffy talk is rubbing off )

5 hours ago, angora48 said:

The baby monitor had been on David’s nightstand since Bryan had gotten sick (now that David had a cold, too, Bryan should have moved it – why didn’t he think?)

And Bryan was so adorable, completely exhausted and crying, because it was all too much and yet he tried to be strong for David and Sawyer.

This was a lovely addition to the rest of the story, my fluff-loving heart had an amazing time! Thanks for sharing

[angora48]

Thanks, Selene - and I think you mean the stuffy talk is catching!  ;-)

Part 13:

 

When David woke, it was light out – the sun was peeking around the edges of the curtains – but still early for a Saturday, especially a Saturday when he was under the weather.  He was feeling admittedly crappy, stuffed-up with a cloudy head and a sore throat.  Not that he couldn’t have gone into the clinic if it had been a work day, of course, but he was glad it wasn’t.

They’d had to get up a few more times with Sawyer over the course of the night.  After Bryan had it so rough the first time, David wanted him to just stay in bed, but Bryan insisted that they take turns.  They got through it, though.  David even acquiesced to the song – Bryan’s throat was too sore to sing and David could barely manage it even he wasn’t sick, but David got the idea to pull up the song on his phone and play it for Sawyer.  Their son could tell it wasn’t quite the same, but after a bit of initial confusion, it still worked to get him back to sleep.

Bryan was lying on David’s chest again.  Given the heat that was still radiating off him, he really didn’t need David’s body warmth that close to him, but they tried different configurations through the night, and David found that Bryan did less tossing and turning when David was cuddling him.  It was the same as Bryan’s sick pajamas – not necessarily the best for his fever, but the comfort he got from it helped him rest better, and that was important, too.

“Ahhhhhh-SHIOOOOOO!” David sneezed cupping his hands over his nose and mouth.  The force of the sneeze caused Bryan to stir, and David winced.  “Did I wake you?” he asked, his voice low and stuffy.

Bryan shook his head, lethargically stretching a little.  “You’re good,” he mumbled, though David was sure he was just demurring.  But that wasn’t the headline – no, the headline was Bryan’s poor voice, which was only coming out in a strained whisper.  He coughed, deep in his chest, and it sounded bad enough that it made David’s throat sorer in sympathy.

Sniffling a few times, Bryan wiped his nose.  He held on lightly to David’s T-shirt.  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Dot too bad,” David replied.

Bryan gave David’s chest a gentle smack.  “Liar,” he chided.  “Hehhhhhhh… ihhhhhh-uhhhhhh-CHUHHHHHH!”

“Be?” David said, softly teasing.  What about you?”  He scratched Bryan’s back.  “You soud awful.”

“Ugh – I doh,” Bryan lamented.  “I did way too buch yellig at the studio yesterday.  Why do th- ahhhhh… hihhhhhh-CHIIIAAAHHHHHHh!”  He buried his sneeze into David’s shirt and croaked out a groan.  “Sorry – that was gross.”

“Dod’t worry about it,” David assured Bryan, giving him a comforting squeeze.

Bryan coughed some more, making David want to rub his own throat.  “Right,” he said.  “Ub… I was sayig sobethig, right?”

David brushed Bryan’s bangs back and rubbed his forehead, although he still couldn’t get a good read on his husband’s temperature – he just knew it was high.  “You…” Gasping a little, he pinched his nose.  “hhhhhhh-KKNNKKKFFHHH!  …You were yellig at the studio,” he prompted patiently.

“Oh yeah,” Bryan mumbled, sniffling.  “They all idsist od aggravatig be, especially whed-” he paused, tsking sympathetically, while David coughed into his hand, “-whed I’be dot id the bood to be aggravated.”

David opened his mouth to respond, but that was when they heard the dulcet tones of Sawyer crying on the baby monitor.  He and Bryan both groaned.  “Is it by turd?” Bryan asked.  As he spoke, he tried to push himself up in bed and, from the looks of it, got hit by a dizzy spell; he awkwardly propped himself halfway up and brought a hand to his head.

“Doh – it’s bide,” David replied, sitting up himself.  He turn Bryan by the shoulders and guided him back down.  “Positive.”  This was definitely not true, but it very much didn’t matter.

“Okay,” Bryan rasped hazily as David got up and headed for the door.  “Yeah – you take this wud.  I’ll get- the dext… Ahhhhhhh-ehhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHH!”

David moved down the hall to the nursery, clearing his throat.  “Hey, buddy,” he said, stepping inside to find Sawyer.  “What’s up, huh?”

As it happened, Sawyer’s diaper needed changing.  David couldn’t smell it (the one small mercy of being stuffed up,) but when he picked up his son, he could tell that Sawyer was distinctly bottom-heavy, and that usually meant one very unpleasant thing.

“Hihhhhhh-uhhhhhhh-shiiaahhhhhhhh!” he sneezed into his shoulder as he busied himself at the changing table.  David sighed.  He wasn’t feeling great, and he really didn’t like how Bryan was looking – or sounding.

It’s not that David getting sick soon after Bryan was a novel occurrence.  In fact, that was almost exclusively how David got sick, catching whatever Bryan had.  But the way that usually worked, David would come down with it maybe a week after Bryan, when Bryan was starting to feel better.  Adding Sawyer into the mix had thrown things off – David had gotten sick too soon, and even though Bryan wanted to do his part to take care of David and help with the baby, his cold was still getting worse, not better, and he wasn’t going to be of much use.

It wasn’t going to work, not the way it normally did.  David realized, rather dismally, that this wasn’t going to cut it; they needed to send for reinforcements.

Once Sawyer was changed and David had cleaned up, he pulled his phone from the pocket of his pajama pants and scrolled through his contacts.  He dialed and waited, sniffling hard as he rubbed his nose with his fingers.

“Hello?” came Goldie’s voice on the other end.  Their former surrogate/current friend sounded surprised and a bit out of it, and David suddenly remembered that it was only 7:30 on a Saturday morning.

“Goldie, hey,” he said, grimacing at his blunder.  “Sorry – I didded’t thidk how early it wa-”  As he spoke, a tickle in his throat got the better of him, and he cut off short to cough into the crook of his arm.

“Ooh,” Goldie said, and David could practically hear the sympathetic wince she was no doubt making.  “Sounds like you’ve got that cold too, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” David mumbled; he could feel his ears and neck going red.  “Yeah, that’s, ub,” he wiped his nose, trying to will himself not to sniffle on the phone, “that’s actually why I called.”  He took a gathering breath.  “See, Bryad’s really sick, add I’be dot-” god, he hated this, “-uh, dot feeling too well byself… I hate to ask-”

“Don’t,” Goldie told him, automatic, without a second thought.  “Anything you need.  What can I do for you?”

[Elyze]

They are so adorably miserable, both of them  I'm happy they're getting some help with Sawyer so they can concentrate on being sick. Just hoping we get to join them as they do so, but I'm guessing that's the idea...

[Selene]

9 hours ago, angora48 said:

David opened his mouth to respond, but that was when they heard the dulcet tones of Sawyer crying on the baby monitor.  He and Bryan both groaned.  “Is it by turd?” Bryan asked.  As he spoke, he tried to push himself up in bed and, from the looks of it, got hit by a dizzy spell; he awkwardly propped himself halfway up and brought a hand to his head.

 

“Doh – it’s bide,” David replied, sitting up himself.  He turn Bryan by the shoulders and guided him back down.  “Positive.”  This was definitely not true, but it very much didn’t matter.

 

“Okay,” Bryan rasped hazily as David got up and headed for the door.  “Yeah – you take this wud.  I’ll get- the dext… Ahhhhhhh-ehhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHH!”

This part was so cute! How they're looking out for each other and how Bryan tries to be strong, but is so relieved when it's not his turn 

And I also loved the description of their usual sick-schedule, which doesn't work out this time.

Maybe they'll finally get enough time to really take care of their colds, now that help is on its way

[angora48]

20 hours ago, helyzelle said:

They are so adorably miserable, both of them  I'm happy they're getting some help with Sawyer so they can concentrate on being sick. Just hoping we get to join them as they do so, but I'm guessing that's the idea...

But of course, helyzelle!  That's what we're here for!  :grin:

Here's Part 14.

 

Bryan, sprawled in bed, looked up as David entered carrying Sawyer.  A small smile tugged at the corner of Bryan’s mouth, and he held his arms out.  David crossed the room, handing Sawyer to his sick, exhausted husband.

“Hey, bech robot,” Bryan rasped, setting Sawyer on his chest and letting the baby grasp his fingers.

“You have to stop callig hib that,” David warned.  Climbing back into bed, he sat beside the prone Bryan.  David slipped his pillow behind his back, pulled the blankets over his legs (Bryan still didn’t need any,) and cupped his hands over his mouth to cough.

“I’ll stop before he’s old eduff to rebebber it,” Bryan promised.  He shifted a little in bed to cozy up to David.

David let his fingers settle lazily in Bryan’s hair.  “Goldie’s cobing over,” he remarked.

Bryan sniffled; his eyes on Sawyer, he was only half-listening.  “What f-for…?  AHHHHH-shiiuhhhhhh!”  He sneezed loudly, bringing a hand to his face.

“That,” David replied, lightly teasing.  He bent down to kiss Bryan’s forehead.  “She’s gudda give us a hadd.”

“Mbb,” Bryan murmured; David could tell Bryan’s head was fuzzy and his fever was making it hard for him to think clearly.  “But – doh, wait.”  He twisted around to look up at David.  “But you dod’t like havig other people aroud whed you’re sick.”  It was a statement, not a point, and a somewhat confused one at that.

David shrugged.  “It’s fide,” he lied.  “Hehhhhhhh… ihhhhhhh…”  He turned away, pressing his hand to his mouth.  “Huhhhhhh-ISHHHHHHH-nnkkhhh!”  Stifling a sigh, he grabbed a Kleenex and dabbed at his nose.

“Wudce bore with feelig,” Bryan mumbled.

David frowned.  “What was that, hud?”

“I bead, doh, that- that’s dot right,” Bryan insisted hazily.  “I dod’t believe you.”  He coughed hard into his fist, then closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead.  “You dod’t like-” more coughing; David winced, “-other people aroud whed you’re sick.”

“It’s okay,” David tried to assure him.  “I figured it out.  We cad set you up od… ahhhhhh… hhhhhhhhh-SHHHHNNNFFHHH!”  He sniffled wetly.  “…Od the couch, so if I deed to-” another sniffle, “hide out sobewhere, I cad just… ehhhhhhhhh…”  God, his nose was really bothering him.  David grabbed another Kleenex.  “Huhhhhhh-ehhhhhh-shhhhhhhhh!”  He swallowed a sigh.  “…Cobe up here.”

“Right,” Bryan drawled.  It seemed he was starting to cut through the fog a little bit – at least, his thoughts were sounding less hazy.  “Sick add alode with doh wud, uh, doh wud to… well, you doh.”  Okay, still fairly hazy, then.  Bryan pulled his pillow out from beneath his head, pressed it to his face and sneezed an “Ihhhhhhhhh-hehhhhhhhh-SHIIOOOOOO!” into it, which made Sawyer laugh.  “Shhh,” he told the baby, emerging from beneath the pillow, before turning back to David.  “If you thidk I’be cool with that…”

“Babe, you lost your voice,” David pointed out gently.  He rubbed Bryan’s cheek.  “Add your fever’s still really high…”  He coughed a little and sniffled.  “You deed sobewud to care take of you, add right dow, I dod’t thidk that’s be.”

“You dod’t have to,” Bryan replied, sweetly stubborn.  “I’ll take care of you.”

David smiled fondly.  “Bry, cad you eevedd sit up without gettig dizzy?”

“..I dod’t see how that’s relevadt,” Bryan said archly.  He sneezed again, a hard “hihhhhhhh-CHUHHHHHH!” into his fist.

David slid down onto his side, propping himself up a little on his elbow, to look down at Bryan’s flushed, worn-out face.  “Okay,” he began.  “Let’s say we-” he sniffled, “-we cad, sobehow, pull it together eduff to look after each other-”

“We cad,” Bryan interrupted.

But David wasn’t finished yet.  “…Thed what about hib?” he asked, reaching forward to tickle Sawyer, who giggled.

The realization spread slowly across Bryan’s face.  “…Oh.”

“See?” David said.  Bryan’s eyes were getting that hazy look, and David waited for him to sneeze – “ihhhhhhhh-HAAAAHHHHHHHH-shiioooooo!  Ehhhhhh... hihhhhhhh-chiuuhhhhhh!” – into his hand.  Tsking softly, David rubbed Bryan’s shoulder.  “We deed help,” he explained – almost apologetic in tone, which was ironic since he was the one who’d be embarrassed to have Goldie around.

“Doh – wait…” Bryan mumbled, sniffling.

“Bry, it’s fine, really-” David tried to assure him.

“I said, wait!” Bryan replied.  He coughed hard and massaged his forehead.  “Give be a bidute…”  David leaned down to kiss his husband’s neck; he knew Bryan’s thoughts had to be pretty jumbled due to his fever.

“Okay, I got it,” Bryan finally declared.  He set Sawyer on the bed between him and David.

“What?” David asked as Bryan fumbled out of bed and rose very unsteadily to his feet.  Upright but wavering, Bryan held his arms out for Sawyer; David shook his head.  “Babe, I love you, but there’s doh way you’re carryig the baby wh… whed…”  David turned his head.  “ahhhhhhh-SHHHHNNNKKK-ehhhhhh!  Uhh…”  He sniffed.  “…whed you’re that shaky od your feet.”

Bryan gave a long-suffering sigh.  “You cobe too, thed,” he said and staggered for the door, still not explaining himself.

Rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist, David swallowed a groan, picked up Sawyer, and trailed after his husband.

[queenie]

They’re so sweet! I’m enchanted. 

[angora48]

Aw, thanks!

Part 15, :-)

 

When the doorbell rang, Bryan was ready for it.  As it happened, it was a good thing that David had helped out, because Bryan was way too feverish and woozy to be of use for much of anything – he head was swimming, and he couldn’t go more than six or seven steps without needing to stop and steady himself or remind himself what he was doing.  Needless to say, David’s concerned face was in rare form.

They got it done, though, and after Bryan sent David back up to bed, David returned briefly to take Bryan’s robe down to him.  It was thoughtful of David, Bryan noted vaguely.  Even though, with his fever, the last thing Bryan needed was more clothes, David obviously realized Bryan wouldn’t be a fan of answering the door in his pajamas.

Now, he could at least pass for somewhat-presentable, fitted in a royal blue robe that he told himself made him look less like someone dying of a horrible cold and more like an eccentric shut-in.  Shades of Howard Hughes before he stopped cutting his fingernails?  There wasn’t much he could do about his chapped nose (or his lost voice – the second he opened his mouth, he was going to sound terrible,) but he at least tried to neaten his hair a little.

So, when the ring came at the door, Bryan was ready to get up from the bar and move carefully toward the entry to answer it.  He left Sawyer for the moment in his high chair – David was right that Bryan wasn’t in the best condition to be carrying their son.  Holding on heavily to the door as he pulled it open, Bryan offered Goldie and Shania a wrung-out half-smile.  “Hey,” he whispered.

Goldie winced sympathetically.  “Hey,” she replied.  “Feeling pretty crappy, huh?”

“Oh by god, you have doh idea,” Bryan groaned.  He was automatically drawn to any and all sympathy when he was sick and was very nearly in danger of forgetting what he was there to do.  As such, it was with a wistful kind of reluctance that he looked down at Shania.  “I bet she’s awesobe at takig care of people, isid’t she?” he asked.

“The best,” Goldie’s daughter confirmed, as if it were an objective fact verified under laboratory conditions.

“Yeah…” Bryan sighed, for a second getting lost in the daydream of being tended to all day by Goldie.

But then, Goldie and Shania were stepping inside and Goldie was saying, “I’m glad David called me – we’re happy to help,” and Bryan remembered his mission.  He trailed unsteadily after them, scrubbing at his face with his hands in a mostly-unsuccessful attempt to clear his head.

“Ub, actually…” he started, but his nose was itching.  “ihhhhhhhh-HIIHHHHHH-chiuuhhhhhhh!”

“Bless you!” Goldie said.

“Thadks-” Bryan started.

“Do you know why people say ‘bless you’?” Shania remarked.  “It’s from an old superstition that demons could enter a person’s body when they sneezed.”

“Great,” Bryan mumbled.  His head was starting to feel really unfocused again – if he didn’t do this soon, he was gonna keel over.  “Yeah, but, see – the thig is, we’re fide.”

Goldie gave him an indulgent, knowing smile.  “Somehow, I have my doubts about that.”

This was why you didn’t send the guy with a high fever and no voice to convince someone they didn’t need to take care of him.  Still, Bryan wasn’t about to make poor David do it – that was why Bryan had shooed him back upstairs – and there wasn’t anyone else.  God, he felt so hot.  “It’s worse thad it souds,” he rasped reassuringly, then caught himself.  “Doh, wait… That’s dot right.”   He rubbed his head.  “It’s the, ub…” he sniffled hard, “…uh, the other way a-aroud… HAHHHHHHH-chiooooooo!”  He sneezed into his hands and groaned.

Gently, Goldie put a hand on his shoulder.  “I think we’d better get you back to bed,” she advised kindly.

But Bryan had worked out what he’d meant to say.  “Souds worse thad it is!” he said.  “David add be, we’re – I bead, we’re dot good, but we’ve got it.  We-” he broke off, coughing raggedly; his body really had a knack for undermining his point.

When he got his breath back, he managed to continue, before Goldie could interrupt and make him change his mind.  “Really – we’re just gudda sleep all day addyway.”  He aimed for a reassuring smile but had a suspicion he ended up somewhere closer to a wince.  “But the thig is, you- you cad’t- exact… ly…”  He covered his enormous “haahhhhhhh-SHOOOOOO-ehhhhhh!  Ehhhhhhh… hehhhhhhhhh-ihhhhhhh-CHIIUUHHHHH!” with one hand and kept the other on the wall so he wouldn’t literally collapse. 

Letting out a groan, he wiped his nose and managed to remember what he’d been saying, which he thought was a pretty huge achievement.  “You, uh, you cad’t hiberdate add take care of a baby at the sabe tibe, so…” An actual smile this time, his “pretty please?” grin.

“You want us to babysit?” Goldie replied.  (No wonder she had to ask – Bryan felt like he was hardly making any sense.)  “We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Shania?”

Shania nodded.  “Sawyer could use a little quality godparent time.”

“Great,” Bryan breathed.  They’d been making their way back to the kitchen, which, when Bryan was woozy, felt about 70 miles away.  But now, while Shania made a beeline for Sawyer in his high chair, Bryan motioned to the two bags sitting on the bar.  “The diaper bag is packed,” he explained to Goldie, “allog w-wihhh…”  He turned away, cupping his hands over his face.  “Hahhhhh-ihhhhhhhh-SHOOOOOOO!  Ugh…”  He pulled a Kleenex from the pocket of his robe and wiped his nose.  “…Allog with his bladkie, everythig you’d deed for feedig, add sobe of his toys.  His play bobile is id the livig roob – it folds up pretty sball if-” he coughed, likely shredding what was left of his larynx, “-you wadda take that too.”

“Sounds good,” Goldie told him.  “Shania, I’m putting you on mobile duty – I’ll get Sawyer in his car seat.”

“On it!” Shania said with a decisive nod.  She hurried off.  Bryan, who was currently jealous of anyone with an energy level above half dead, tried not to resent her for it.

“We really appreciate it,” Bryan told Gold as he “helped” her with the car seat – he liked to think he was supervising, but really he just leaned weakly against things while he watched Goldie do all the work.

“Are you kidding?” Goldie exclaimed.  “We’re happy to; we love Sawyer.”  She put a hand on his arm.  “But seriously, I mean it – if there’s anything else you guys need, you give me a call.”

“Thadks – doh – we’ll be good,” Bryan said, more confusingly than he’d intended.  He sneezed a hard “IHHHHHHH-shiiiiuuuhhhhhhh!” into the crook of his arm.

“Bless you,” Goldie told him.  “Believe me:  new parents.  We’ve all been there.”

“So I hear,” Bryan muttered, sniffling.

Shania returned, carrying the mobile, and then Bryan stood in the doorway while she and Goldie brought Sawyer and his things out to their car.  Coughing hard into his fist, Bryan managed a weak wave as he watched them go.

[Selene]

I know, I've said it before, but I'll say it again: this was super adorable!  I loved how Bryan insisted on the robe's magic powers to make him look more like he was still a functioning part of society, not a complete cold-ridden mess  

And I am so glad that they'll finally have some time to take care of each other without having to worry about Sawyer. With Bryan so sick and feverish they really needed this.

[queenie]

Now Bryan and David can be alone and sick together! Maybe David will relax a little bit into feeling terrible now he has the chance. 

[angora48]

Thanks for the comments!  And Queenie, David will relax if Bryan has anything to say about it, but David's not going down without a fight!

Part 16 - alone and sick together...

 

Normally, when David was sick, Bryan liked to pull out all the stops.  David was the doctor, which made him the healer:  the one to take Bryan’s temperature, bring aspirin and VapoRub, know how many blankets to use, and so forth.  But Bryan was the caretaker.  He was all about making David feel comfy and loved, from fluffing his pillows to finding something David-y to keep him entertained if he was sick enough that he could be convinced to stay home but well enough that he didn’t have to sleep all day.

Food was a big part of that, cooking David all sorts of good things to help him feel better.  Homemade soups, perfectly-steeped herbal tea with honey, and various enticing breakfasts in bed.  One particular breakfast David liked on sick days was what they referred to as “fancy oatmeal,” old-fashioned oats cooked on the stovetop with milk and then loaded up with goodness.  Brown sugar, berries, nuts – the works – and topped with whipped cream.  Over the years, it had become something of a tradition, and now, when David was sick, it was inevitable that Bryan would make it for him at some point.

But not today.  Bryan felt bad, but he couldn’t do it.  While he was usually a little bit sick whenever David was (in addition to being the caretaker, Bryan was also generally Patient Zero,) he was never this sick – usually, he was much further down the road toward feeling better by the time David caught whatever he had, and so better able to be what David need. 

Today, though?  Not a chance.  He felt hot and dizzy and his throat was killing him.  He couldn’t make fancy oatmeal.  He couldn’t make waffles or French toast, he couldn’t cut up fruit into dumb shapes that would make David smile, and he definitely couldn’t carry one tray, let along two, up the stairs.  It was all he could do to throw some bread in the toaster and then scrape on a little butter while he tried not to pass out.

It was by sheer force of will and nothing else that Bryan was able to make it back up the stairs.  He had (incredibly-boring) toast for both him and David, but he made an executive decision to put it all on one plate so he could use his other hand to drag himself up by the railing.  Even so, it was a serious Everest situation – Bryan had to stop twice, sitting on the stairs while he coughed or blew his nose, and he peeled off his robe halfway through (why he hadn’t taken it off the second Goldie and Shania left, he’d never know) and left it there on the stairs.

“Hehhhhhhh-SHIUUHHHHHH!” he sneezed harshly into his shoulder as he made it to the bedroom, bracing himself against the doorframe so the toast wouldn’t slide off the plate.

“Gesudheit, babe,” David replied, sounding a little groggy.  He started to push himself up in bed.  “Everythig all right?  You were god for a while.”

“That depedds od your defidishud of ‘all right,’” Bryan pointed out.  He was feeling wobbly, and David got out of bed, took Bryan by the elbow, and guided him across the room.  “Sawyer’s with Goldie – that all w-”  He coughed hard; David took the plate so Bryan could cover his mouth with both hands.  When he got his breath back, Bryan moaned and rubbed his chest.  “It wedt fide,” he resumed, breathing heavily.  “Add I bade breakfast.  Sorry – it’s dot buch.”

“It’s pledty,” David assured him.  “C- ihhhhhhh-hehhhhhhhh-shooooo!”  The sneeze cut him off suddenly, and he blushed a little as he buried his nose in the crook of his arm.  “Cobe od – let’s get you to bed.”

David helped Bryan get seated on the bed first, a pillow behind his back, then went around to climb in himself.  As soon as he did, Bryan nestled up close to David, dropping his head onto his husband’s shoulder.  David slipped an arm around Bryan and kissed his forehead.

David didn’t complain about the toast, but Bryan would have if he hadn’t been the one who made it.  It was hardly worth the agony it took to swallow; Bryan couldn’t manage much more than a nibble at a time.  And honestly, plain toast with a bit of butter?  Snore – not Bryan’s best work by a long shot.

They didn’t talk much while they ate, just sniffled and coughed.  Bryan suspected David was almost as tired as he was; good chance getting him to admit it, though.  David could be aggravating when he was sick because he always shrugged everything off and said he was fine.  Bryan made it easy for David to take care of him, describing exactly what was wrong and why he hated it – to take care of David, Bryan had to do more guesswork, and it was hard to guess when his brain was being slowly roasted by his fever.

David peered at Bryan, who stopped with a piece of toast halfway to his mouth.  “What?” he asked, equal parts dismayed and perplexed.  “I’be dot all sdotty, ab I?”  He wiped his nose.

But David just took Bryan’s cheek in his hand, studying him.  He brushed his thumb across Bryan’s lips.  “Wait here,” David told Bryan, leaning in to kiss his temple.  “I’ll be right back.”

So Bryan waited while David disappeared off somewhere.  He decided he couldn’t handle any more toast and dropped his half-nibbled piece back onto the plate, wiping his hands on the bedspread before lifting them to his face.  “hehhhhhhh-SHOOOOO-ihhhhhhhh!  Ahhhhhhhh… ehhhhhhh… hihhhhhhh-chiaahhhhhhh!”  He groaned.

David returned, carrying a glass of water that he handed to Bryan.  “Thadks, hud,” Bryan whispered, forcing down a tiny swallow.  He moved to set the glass on the nightstand.

“Uh uh,” David replied, blocking Bryan from putting down the water.  “Dridk it dowd.”

Bryan sighed but begrudgingly did as he was instructed, grimacing with every painful swallow.  No sooner had he (finally) drained the glass than David took it from him and walked out of the room again.  “You’re welcobe,” Bryan mumbled after him.  He was feeling tired and dizzy, and he slipped down onto his back, sniffling as he rubbed his nose and blinked drowsily.

He just barely opened his eyes when David came back and returned to Bryan’s side of the bed, the glass refilled.  “You realize I…”  Bryan turned his face into the pillow.  “hehhhhhhhh-CHUHHHHHHH!”  A depressing, wet sniffle.  “…I wod’t be able to sleep if I’be peeig all bordig,” he pointed out.

“We'll deal with that later,” David told him.  “Cobe od.”

Bryan shook his head, hugging the pillow.  “David, by throat really hurts,” he insisted.  Some people might say he was whining, but some people should shut up and leave him alone.

David sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Bryan’s shoulder.  When he spoke again, his voice was softer.  “I doh, babe,” he said, “but we deed to get fluids id you; you’re dehydrated.”

This was news to Bryan.  He rubbed his eyes with one hand and looked up at David.  “Really?” he mumbled.

“Mbb hbb,” David replied, brushing Bryan’s bangs aside to feel his forehead.  “Your lips are really dry, add you’re dot sweatig addybore, eevedd though you’ve still got a fever.  That’s probably part of what’s bakig you feel so out of it.  I should’ve doticed it right away – I’be sorry.”

Bryan wiped his nose on the back of his hand, shaking his head.  “It’s okay,” he murmured.

“So I deed you to dridk sobe bore water for be, all right?” David said gently.  Bryan nodded and allowed David to help him sit back up.  David paused, pressing his hand to his mouth.  “IHHHHHHH-shhhnnnffffhhhh!”

“Bless you,” Bryan rasped.

“Thadks,” David replied, looking down a little sheepishly and sniffling.  He handed Bryan the water glass again.

When Bryan finally got the water down and David left again with the glass, Bryan wanted to cry (although, if he was dehydrated, he didn’t know how well that would work.)  He wanted to make his shaky, sickly feeling go away, but his throat hurt so badly, he honestly didn’t know if he could take another swallow.  “ahhhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHHH!  Ehhhhhhhhh… hihhhhhh-uhhhhhh-CHOOOOOO!” he sneezed.  With miserable exhaustion, he reached for a Kleenex and blew his nose.

Bryan must have looked every bit as unhappy as he felt, because when David came back, he immediately moved to the bed, setting the water down on Bryan’s nightstand and kissing the top of Bryan’s head.  “You dod’t have to dridk this wud right away,” David explained.  “Just keep workig od it whed you cad.”  God, Bryan loved him.  Another kiss and a comforting squeeze, and David climbed back into bed beside Bryan, cupping his hands over his mouth to cover an “ihhhhhhh-hhhnnnkkkhhh!”

Bryan knew David could be weird about not wanting to sneeze loudly, stifling his sneezes to the point where they had to hurt, but he wasn’t normally this bad – not at home, anyway.  In public was a different story, but at home, he was usually at least a little comfortable.  Bryan worried that it was because of how sick he was, that David was going to give himself a sinus headache from stifling his sneezes because he wanted to downplay how crappy he was feeling; Bryan didn’t see how that was going to help either of them.

David sniffled, and as he got back to the blah, nothing breakfast Bryan had made him, Bryan rested his head on his husband’s shoulder, entwining his fingers with David’s and lightly nuzzling David’s neck with his own stuffy nose.  It’s okay, babe, Bryan thought.  Don’t make yourself miserable for me.

If Bryan’s telepathic message was getting through, David wasn’t in the mood to answer it.  “Gettig you rehydrated is job wud,” David noted, tired but still business-like.  “We have three jobs today, add the water sh- shhhhhhh…”  He turned away from Bryan and clamped his free hand over his mouth.  “HHHHHHHH-shhhhkkkknnnnnhhh!  Ah…”  Bryan squeezed David’s hand.  “…Should help with all of theb,” David finished, sniffling.

“Uh huh,” Bryan mumbled glumly, wiping his nose.

“Job wud:  we rehydrate you,” David repeated.  (David always liked to have a game plan.  It could be annoying sometimes, but it could be very sweet, too.)  “Job two:  we work od briggig your fever dowd.  Job-” he sniffled a few times, then grabbed a Kleenex to blot at his nose.  “Job three:  we try add do sobethig about your cough.  That should help with the larydgitis.”

Bryan snuggled up closer to David.  “How cobe all our jobs are about be?” he asked.

David gave Bryan’s cheek a light stroke.  “You deed it bore right dow,” he replied.  “There’ll be pledty of tibe for be later.”

The “you need it more” thing was probably true – Bryan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so terrible – but that didn’t make it fair, and there was definitely no rule saying the only one of them could feel awful at a time.  David was just really bad at admitting it.

But now wasn’t the time to argue with David about it.  First of all, David could be even more stubborn about being taken care of when he was in doctor mode himself, and second, convincing him otherwise would likely take way more talking than Bryan could muster at the moment.  Still, as Bryan felt his eyes drooping and his sick exhaustion catching up with him, he made a somewhat fuzzy mental note to make sure he wasn’t the only one getting what he needed.

[queenie]

Ohhhh this strikes a good h/c balance for

me! I’ll admit I’m a little worried about the bathrobe Bryan semi-deliriously she’d on the stairs— it seems dangerous! David doesn’t know it’s there and is going to trip on it and fall down the stairs and hurt himself, and then where will we be??? (Fretting is a good sign, don’t worry.)

[angora48]

hehe, thanks, queenie!  This story is heavy on the fluff, but you've gotta throw in at least a LITTLE h/c, right?

Here's Part 17.

 

Bryan spent most of the morning slipping in and out of an uneasy doze.  David would have liked to see him sleep more deeply, but he could tell Bryan was having a hard time really getting comfortable and that was keeping him from settling in too well.

That was what David intended to remedy, but it took time.  Bryan would probably be bringing up this cold in disagreements for the rest of their lives because, coincidental or not, he’d spent the week going in to work when he wasn’t feeling well and ended up sick enough that David didn’t want him venturing any further than the bathroom.  There was pretty much no way Bryan was going to work with so much as the sniffles ever again.

That meant a lot of miserable symptoms for David to chip away at, and so he focused his efforts on the top priorities.  Forcing fluids had seemed to help a little, and although David didn’t keep it up as zealously as he might have liked to (he knew Bryan’s throat was too sore to really press the issue,) he did prod Bryan at regular intervals to remind him to keep drinking water – to be fair, that was also a factor in interrupting Bryan’s sleep.

Bryan was probably still a bit dehydrated, but he was moving in the right direction, enough that David was able to turn his attention to the next challenge:  Bryan’s fever.  David let Bryan keep the bottoms of his sick pajamas but took the sweatshirt away, giving Bryan one of his own T-shirts as a trade-off (since Bryan had initially stolen the sweatshirt and bottoms from David to serve as his sick pajamas, David figured Bryan would prefer something of David’s,) and he pushed all the covers to the foot of the bed.  Of course, David wouldn’t say no to a few covers himself, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that.

He got a washcloth from the bathroom, wetting it under a cold faucet, and first cooled Bryan’s face with it, wiping his forehead and cheeks.  David held the washcloth to Bryan’s neck, then ran it down his arms.  Kissing Bryan as he got up again – “Keep workig od that water,” he instructed – David headed back to the bathroom to re-wet the cloth before draping it across Bryan’s forehead.

While Bryan drifted in and out, David went back and forth between the bedroom and the bathroom a bit, re-wetting Bryan’s washcloth or refilling his water glass.  David thought about setting up a fan by the bed, but he figured that might make Bryan’s runny nose worse, making it harder for him to sleep.  Certainly, David’s own nose was giving him enough trouble without a fan; he pulled a tissue from the box on his nightstand.  “EHHHHHHHH-shhhhhhhh!  Hahhhhhhh-ihhhhhhhhh-SHHNNKKHHH!”  David bit back a groan – he was trying to keep his sneezes as quiet as he could so as not to disturb Bryan, but he wasn’t doing very well.

It was maybe the fourth or fifth time David was getting up to get something for Bryan when Bryan mumbled, “Dohhhh…” and rolled onto David’s chest, effectively weighing him down.

“I’ll be back id a sec, babe,” David explained, giving Bryan a quick squeeze.  He had the washcloth in his hand.  “I’be just gudda rud this udder the sidk agaid.”

“Uh uh,” Bryan insisted, very pointedly not getting off David’s chest.  “I’be supposed to be takig care of you, add I’ve bed useless.  The least I- I…”  He clapped a hand over his mouth.  “Ahhhhhhhhh-hehhhhhhhh-chiiuuuhhhhhhhhh!  Ugh…”  He groaned, sniffling hard.  “The least I cad do is keep you frob gettig up every five secodds to take care of be.”

Admittedly, it was very sweet; there was something endearing about Bryan using himself as dead weight to keep David in bed.  But… “I have to get this dud, Bry,” David said.  “Your fever’s still pretty high.”  That morning, it had been over 102, but as of the last count, it had only gone down to 101.8 – still way too high for David’s comfort.

“Fide,” Bryan replied petulantly.  “You stay.  I’ll go.”

“You are- you’re dot getti- ig out of…”  Damnit – David wasn’t going to make it through the sentence before the sneeze got the better of him.  He turned away and buried his face in his shoulder.  “huhhhhhhhhhhh-shhnnnfffhhh!”  Then, before Bryan could argue, “You’re dot gettig out of this bed.”  And, just for good measure, “I’be fide.”

“Bless you,” Bryan rasped with mock innocence – even when he’d lost his voice, he could still be a smartass when he wanted to.

“Seriously,” David assured him, “I’ll be, like, two secodds.”

“First of all, false,” Bryan replied.  “Secodd of all, what about the dext tibe?  Add the dext tibe?  Add the-”  He started coughing roughly.  David reached for his own water glass and handed it to Bryan, who managed a few sputtering sips.  “…You doh what I bead,” Bryan finished, a bit anticlimactically.

“Well, hud,” David said, “it’d be great if I could brig your fever dowd without gettig out of bed, but I dod’t doh how to do that.”

Bryan made a dissatisfied little noise.  He was still stationed squarely on top of David’s chest, and now, he rubbed his forehead and gave a tired sigh.  After a long moment, he said, “Okay:  go get the big bixig bowl frob the kitched add put a budch of ice aa- add sobe water… id…  HEHHHHHHH-chiiuhhhhhh!”  He sneezed hard into the back of his hand.  “Uhhh – id it.  We cad wet the washcloth with that, add as the ice melts, we-” he sniffed twice, scrubbing his nose with the finger, “-we can fill our glasses frob it, too.”

David, smiling, rubbed Bryan’s cheek (he hadn’t shaved, which might have been the biggest indicator of just how sick he felt – when Bryan stopped trying with his appearance, you knew things were bad.)  “Codsiderig how high your fever is, you’re still pretty sharp,” David observed.

“David, I’be ad ideas bad,” Bryan replied.  “How do you dot doh this about be?”

After David bent forward to kiss the top of Bryan’s head, Bryan relinquished his position and let David get up.  The kitchen, it had to be said, was much farther away than the bathroom, and as David trudged down the stairs – pausing to pick up Bryan’s evidently-discarded bathrobe – his headache seemed to pulse with every step.  He rummaged about for the mixing bowl, coughing into the crook of his arm, then emptied all the ice cube trays into it, dutifully refilling them and putting them back in the freezer afterwards (as much as he would’ve like to go straight back upstairs, he knew they’d be needing more ice soon enough.)

“You’ll be happy with be,” David said as he came back into the bedroom.  He set the mixing bowl of ice and water on Bryan’s nightstand, and Bryan lethargically rolled over to drop the washcloth in the bowl.  “I got this at the sabe tibe,” David went on, producing a jar of VapoRub from the pocket of his sweatpants, “so I- I saved byself a… trip… hihhhhhhhhh-ehhhhhhh-SHHHHHHHH!”

“You’re leardig,” Bryan replied with a sleepy smile.  David helped him peel off the T-shirt he was wearing, then Bryan flopped down onto his back; he reached into the mixing bowl, pulled out the dripping washcloth, and put it on his forehead.

Back in bed, David unscrewed the lid on the VapoRub and smeared some onto his fingers.  As he rubbed it slowly onto Bryan’s chest, Bryan’s eyes drooped a little.  He rubbed his nose, sniffling, and stifled a few hard coughs.  “This bight be the wud advadtage to both of us beig sick,” Bryan reasoned.  “You cad’t sbell it addy bore thad I cad.”

David chuckled, which made him cough, too – he turned away and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.  When the coughing passed, he resumed his work and said, “Dod’t really thidk it’s worth it.”

“Yeah,” Bryan agreed.  “As perks go, it’s a pretty dubb wud… hihhhhhh-uhhhhhhh-SHOOOOOOO!”  He cupped his hands over his mouth.

“Gesudheit,” David told him.  He finished rubbing, then wiped his hand off with a Kleenex.

When David lay back down, he felt Bryan’s hand coming to rest on his chest.  “You wadt addy?” Bryan asked.

David shook his head.  “I’be okay,” he replied.  “By cough isd’t too bad.”

“Mbb,” Bryan murmured.  He was gently massaging David’s chest, making small circles with the side of his thumb.

A smile was starting to form in the corner of David’s mouth.  “Well, if you’re gudda rub it addyway…” he said.  He took his shirt off and grabbed the VapoRub jar, holding it out to Bryan.

When David settled back in, Bryan rolled onto his side, moving the washcloth to his neck.  Sniffling, he took his turn putting VapoRub on David’s chest, and David had to admit there was something soothing about it.  Not that he needed it – while Bryan’s cough was way too hard on his poor throat and needed some help, David would’ve gotten by well enough without it – but he wasn’t gonna lie, it was nice. 

The rhythmic motion of Bryan’s hand on David’s chest had a lulling effect – on both of them, it seemed.  David’s eyelids felt heavy, and Bryan’s circles were getting slower as his stuffed-up breaths grew long and even.  Eventually, his hand stopped moving altogether.  Smiling, David grabbed another Kleenex to wipe Bryan’s hand, then interlaced his fingers with his sleeping husband’s, feeling himself starting to nod off.

[Selene]

*squees happiliy* People rubbing their loved one's chest with VapoRub is one of my all time favourite h/c fluff tropes and Bryan and David are rocking it

[queenie]

SO SWEET

[angora48]

Thanks!  Glad I could oblige, Selene! 

Part 18:

 

It seemed the VapoRub helped Bryan a lot (and David wasn’t going to complain about it, either.)  Coughing less helped Bryan sleep more, so while he was still a little restless, he was able to doze pretty well.  For his part, David slept a little, but even though they’d arranged it so he wouldn’t have to get up nearly as often to get things for Bryan, Bryan was still on David’s mind, and that kept him from sleeping too deeply.  Whenever David started to get settled, he’d feel the need to check Bryan’s temperature or re-wet the washcloth again, or Bryan would stir in his sleep and David would rub his chest or his temple.

Still, David got enough sleep, on and off, to discombobulate himself.  Sick days could take on a weird pace, which David supposed was at least part of the reason he didn’t really like them – no structure.  He spent a good chunk of his waking time mildly bored, and yet the day seemed to be getting away from him.  As such, it was almost 1:30 when he gently squeezed Bryan’s shoulder and murmured, “Bry – Bry, wa-ake uhhhh… hihhhhhh-shhnnnhhhkkhhhh!”  Okay, not quite as soft or peaceful as he’d planned.

Bryan groaned, coughing – thankfully, his coughs didn’t sound nearly as painful as they had that morning, although when he spoke, his voice was still gone.  “Hbb?” he rasped, disoriented with sleep.

David swept the washcloth across Bryan’s forehead, then kissed his damp brow.  “We should get ludch,” David told him.  “Lori’s delivers, doesd’t it?”  Bryan nodded.  David, coughing himself, took a drink of his water.  “I was thidkig chicked add wild rice; what od you wadt?”

But Bryan shook his hand – he cupped his hands over his mouth.  “ehhhhhhhhhhh-SHIUHHHHHHH!”  He gave a long, wet sniffle.  “I’be dot huggry,” he replied hazily.

“You have to eat sobethig,” David said, lightly chiding.

“Uh uh,” Bryan insisted.

David rubbed the bridge of his nose; aspirin hadn’t helped his headache much.  “Babe,” he pointed out, “you’ve had like ha- haahhhhhhh -SHOOOOOOO-uhhhhhhhh!”  It was a hard sneeze, into the back of his hand, and it caught David off guard – he grimaced.  “…Half a piece of toast all da-ay…”  His nose was still itching.  David sat up to reach for a Kleenex.  “ehhhhhhh-SHFFFKKKHHH!  Hhhhhhh-ehhhhhhhh-SHHNNNHHHH!”

“Bless you,” Bryan whispered, but he rolled onto his side, facing away from David.  “I told you, I dod’t wadt addythig.”

David wasn’t feeling all that great – he was tired, his headache was bothering him, and his nose wouldn’t stop running – and he didn’t have a lot of patience for Bryan being whiny and obstinate.  David gave an exasperated sigh, preparing to make a fairly curt response, when Bryan coughed hard into his pillow, and all of the sudden, David felt himself softening.

David pulled Bryan into his arms.  “I’be dubb,” he admitted quietly.  “It’s your throat, right?”

Bryan sniffled, rubbing his nose.  “It really hurts, David,” he moaned.  “I dod’t doh ih- ihhhhhhh-hehhhhhhh-CHIAAHHHHHHH!  Uhh…”  Another wet sniffle.  “I dod’t doh if I cad swallow addythig.”

David should have thought of that earlier.  It didn’t work, getting sick when Bryan was still in such rough shape.  David closed his eyes briefly, trying to stop the pounding in his head and ignore the sharp sting in his own throat.  He kissed the back of Bryan’s neck and said, “Dod’t worry – I’ll figure sobethig out.”

Anything with visible vegetables, protein, or noodles in it was out – it had been hard enough for Bryan just to drink water throughout the morning.  Could they get plain broth from Lori’s, or any other soups that were just liquid?  Come to think of it, as long as Bryan’s fever was clinging on like it was, hot soup wasn’t necessarily the best move, anyway.  Something cold then?  Gazpacho was no good, too hard to swallow.  And David wasn’t sure if Lori’s even had any chilled soups; it didn’t seem like that kind of place.  Look for somewhere else that delivered or…?

When the solution finally struck him, it seemed so obvious that David would have been embarrassed to admit it had taken him so long to think of it – he was really off his game.  Still, better late than never, at least.  Giving Bryan one more hug, David said, “Got it – I’ll be back id a few bidutes.”

Down in the kitchen, David’s breath started to hitch.  “ahhhhhhh… hehhhhhhhh…”  He covered his nose and mouth with both hands.  “IHHHHHHH-shiuhhhhh!  Ahhhhhhhh-hihhhhhhh-CHUHHHHHHH!  Hehhhhhh… huhhhhhhhh-ehhhhhh-CHOOOOO!”  Stifling a groan, David dragged himself to the living room, where Bryan had an extra Kleenex box on the coffee table (David only considered the Kleenexes on his own nightstand his – every other box in the house was Bryan’s.)

Sinking down onto the couch, David blew his nose thoroughly.  He’d spent most of the morning wiping his nose and sniffling, a little self-conscious about blowing in front of Bryan – even when Bryan was asleep, David didn’t want to for fear of waking him.  Now, though, it was kind of a relief to just get it all out; David even grabbed a second tissue to finish the job.

Coughing, David brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed his aching temple.  This cold had hit him pretty hard – he didn’t usually get this sick, certainly not this quickly.  But he couldn’t just sit around feeling sorry for himself; Bryan was much worse-off than David and needed looking after.

So, David forced himself to get up and headed back to the kitchen, burying a hard “hehhhhhhhhh-TSCHIIIOOOOOO!” in the crook of his arm.  The force of the sneeze bent him over and made his head spin a little.  Putting a hand on the bar for support, David wondered if he wasn’t running at least a mild fever himself.  He held the back of his wrist to his forehead, but of course, he couldn’t tell.

Still, David had a job to do, and he went about it like he was slogging through molasses and his head was clamped in a vice.  But somehow, he got it done and made his way upstairs.  “Just so you doh,” he announced to Bryan as he returned to the bedroom, “we will have ad actual beal with dutrishudal value todight – this is just to start slow.”

Bryan drowsily pushed himself up in bed, rubbing his sore-looking nose.  A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth as he saw what David had brought:  two bowls of ice cream, one of which had been softened in the microwave.  “I love you,” he rasped.

David walked to Bryan’s side of the bed and, handing Bryan the half-melted bowl, softly kissed his husband’s temple.  “Just what the doctor ordered,” he replied.  Sitting back down in bed, he stifled a strong “hahhhhhhh-SHHHHHHHH!” into his hand.

Bryan snuggled up him, affectionately looping his arm through David’s.  “Dod’t do that,” he requested.

David sniffed, rubbing the bridge of his nose again.  “Dod’t do what?” he asked.

“Dod’t-” Bryan coughed into the back of his hand.  “Dod’t sdeeze like that.  It bakes by siduses hurt just listedig to you.”

David ate a spoonful of ice cream to buy himself a little time.  “Hearig your voice like that bakes by throat hurt,” he countered.

Bryan rested his head on David’s shoulder.  “Yeah, but I cad’t help it.  You’re- you’re doo-ihhhhhh…”  He sneezed a hard “EHHHHHH-chiuhhhhhh!” into the crook of his arm.  “You’re doig it od purpose.”

David didn’t like anything about this line of questioning.  “That’s just how I get, Bry – you doh that,” he replied.  “Eat your ice creab before it belts addy bore.”

But Bryan wasn’t ready to drop it.  “Id frodt of other people, sure,” he pressed, “and I get it – do whatever you deed to with that.  But it’s just be here, add I dod’t bide.”  Sniffling, he turned to kiss David’s neck.  “Dod’t bake yourself biserable.”

Shifting a little in bed, David cleared his throat.  “Dod’t worry about be so buch,” he said.  Given how sick Bryan was, David was doing everything he could to make the day bearable for his husband.  “I’be all right.  You’re the wud wh- who…”  Damnit, this was not the time to be sneezing.  “hhhhhhhh-SHHHHNNFFFHHHH!”

Bryan took David’s hand in his.  “But whed you’re dot all right add try to act like you are?” he said.  “That bakes be worry bore.”

He traced a soft line of kisses down David’s aching temple; David let his eyes fall closed.  “I’be sick – you’re sick,” Bryan went on.  “That’s okay.  We’re figurig it out.  But it’s dot fair if you wod’t let be help.”

David let out a slow, slightly-unsteady exhale.  He was really tired and not quite equipped to handle that much sweetness without feeling a little emotional.  Sniffing hard, he nodded.  “Okay,” he said huskily.  “I’ll work od that.”

Bryan put his head on David’s shoulder again, taking his first careful swallow of ice cream.  “You’d better,” he said, mock-sternly and punctuated with a sniffle.  

The next time David sneezed, a decidedly not-stifled “EHHHHHHH-shiooooooo!” into cupped hands, Bryan didn’t make a thing of it, just blessed him and kissed his neck, which was the way David preferred it.  When David couldn’t hold back a wince at a painful swallow (even though he knew Bryan’s throat was much worse than his was,) Bryan tsked and squeezed his hand.  And when they finished their “lunch,” leaving the bowls on their nightstands, Bryan spooned David as they lay down, Bryan’s feverish skin warming David’s chills. 

Bryan still needed a lot of looking after, and David would get to that soon.  But for the moment, he was ready just to rest.

[angora48]

Part 19 :-)

 

No lie, it was kind of swoony when David went all doctor/protector on Bryan, and the rest of the day was a lot of that.  Or, at least as much of the day as Bryan was aware of – hunky-nerdy doctor taking care of him or not, he was still horrendously sick, and chunks of the day were just a haze of feverish sort-of sleep.  But the parts of it that Bryan knew about?  Totally dreamy, despite the all-around awfulness of the situation at large.

After having ice cream for lunch (which was so sweet of David that Bryan could hardly stand it,) David had been working on Bryan’s sore throat.  He made them both herbal tea in the afternoon – lemon and honey just in Bryan’s, because of course David wouldn’t admit he could use some in his, too – and later had Bryan gargle with salt water in the bathroom.  With that continuous care and coaxing, Bryan’s throat was slowly becoming less painful.

He still couldn’t talk about a whisper, but as evening rolled around, he felt more able to meet David’s goal of having a bit of regular food for dinner.  Lounging in bed, Bryan and David perused the menu for Lori’s on David’s phone, deciding which of the diner’s soups Bryan could attempt.

As they debated soups, Bryan looked at David with a pang of guilt.  Bryan still might not have been thinking all that clearly, but even in his hazy state, he could tell how wrung-out David was.  The poor guy looked wilted, and his reddened nose and the dark circles under his eyes stood out on his pale face. 

David sneezed, a hard “hehhhhhhh-CHIAAHHHHHH!” into the crook of his arm, which Bryan considered a weird sort of progress.  Bryan had noticed that the more pathetic he was, the more resistant David was to admit that he felt terrible, and so he’d try to (painfully) hold in his sneezes.  But Bryan was working hard to reign what you might call his needier tendencies (which wasn’t easy, given how obviously near death he was,) and it seemed to finally be helping David relax.

As David sniffled, rubbing his nose, Bryan slipped the phone out of his hand.  “I’ll call, babe,” Bryan said kindly.  “I dod’t wadt you to have to talk to addywud but be.”

“Dod’t be silly,” David replied.  He turned away, coughing into his fist.

“I’ve devver silly,” Bryan said gravely.  His nose twitched, and he cupped his hands over his mouth.  “huhhhhhhh-ihhhhhhhh-CHOOOOO!”

Bryan felt David’s fingers on his shoulder.  “Bry, you cad’t call,” David pointed out.  “Doh wud’s gudda be able to hear you od the phode.”

Damn him and his logic.  “…Okay, baybe you should do it,” Bryan conceded.

David nodded, his eyes fluttering shut as he sneezed again into his shoulder.  “HAAAHHHHHHH-ihhhhhhh-shiioooooooo!  Uhh…”  He sniffed hard.  “Be right back,” he said, grabbing a couple Kleenexes as he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

“I could put the pillow over by head – I would’t hear a thig,” Bryan call/rasped, though he was sure David wouldn’t hear him.  This was one most definitely a self-consciousness thing; Bryan knew David was all but incapable of blowing his nose in front of Bryan, which was an admitted flaw in Bryan’s plan to keep David from jumping out of bed every five seconds to take care of him.  Keeping David in bed might be good for getting him to rest – even a little – but it left his nose untended.

David returned and slipped back into bed.  He gave a few more quick sniffs, but he did sound noticeably less stuffy, which had obviously been his aim before calling the diner.  Still, as he started to dial, Bryan could see a blush spreading up his husband’s neck; comfortingly, he took David’s free hand in his.

“Hi,” David said briskly, not wasting any time.  “I’d like to place a delivery order?  …Yep – one bowl of chicken add wild rice soup add wud bowl of tobato bisque.”  He pulled his hand out of Bryan’s, grimacing as he rubbed his nose.  “Sorry, how b- hehhhhhhhhhh-SHHHHHHHHH!”  The sneeze burst out of him, loud even as he half-muffled it into his hand.  “…Thadks,” he said, cringing – the person on the other end must have blessed him.  “Uh, how buch?  …Right.”

David hurriedly gave the delivery person their address, asked how long the wait would be, and then got the hell out of Dodge, hanging up like his phone was on fire.  He sank down into his pillow with a long sigh; Bryan drew him in for a cuddle, kissing David’s neck.

“You’re officially fiddished wih- with addy…”  Bryan trailed off, burying an “ihhhhhhh-hehhhhhh-CHIOOOOOO!” into his hand.  Sniffling, he continued, “…With addy add all duties today – you’ve dud eduff.”

“After I get the food,” David told him.  “The guy od the phode said it’d be about a half ad hour.”  He stifled a few coughs from the back of his throat.

But Bryan shook his head.  “Baybe I cad’t talk od the phode, but I cad adswer the door.  Sidce the very thought of that bust be-” he sniffed, wiping his nose, “-bakig your skid crawl add I dod’t care, there’s doh way-” more sniffling; David handed Bryan a Kleenex, “-I’be bakig you do it.”  Bryan turned away from David to blow his dripping nose.

David gave what passed for an incredulous but somehow caring smirk.  “Duh uh, Bry – you’re way too sick to-”

“I did it this bordig, add I was defiditely sicker thed,” Bryan countered.  “By… hehhhhhhh-TSCHIIUUHHHHHHH!”  He sneezed hard into both hands and swallowed a groan.  “By fever’s bed goig dowd.”

“Dot eduff,” David replied.  He winced, squinting a little, and Bryan realized his headache must be bothering him again.

Bryan leaned over to kiss David’s temple.  “Too bad,” he pronounced.  “I’be goig.”  So far, Bryan’s contributions to the day had mostly been keeping David from completely wearing himself out taking care of Bryan.  It was high time he managed a little more than that

*           *           *

There wasn’t much arguing with Bryan when he really set his mind on something, and in the end, the only way to keep him from going down to meet the delivery guy would’ve been for David to physically hold him down.  Not that it would’ve been hard, given how weak and shaky Bryan was still feeling, but at some point, David had to give in to letting Bryan take care of him a little, if only to make him happy, and David had to admit that Bryan handling any interactions with the outside world was an enormous relief.

So, Bryan went downstairs, answered the door, and managed to make it back up to the bedroom without collapsing.  They wearily ate their soup in bed.  Even with the 100%-liquid tomato bisque, Bryan only had about two-thirds of his before his throat hurt too much to keep going – David hugged him and massaged his temple.

Bryan told David not to bother with the garbage, to just leave the empty takeout containers on their nightstands along with their bowls from lunch, but David gathered everything up anyway.  “It’ll just take a bidute,” he pointed out.  “Besides, I deed to put your leftovers id the fridge.”  Dragging himself down to the kitchen, he put away the rest of Bryan’s soup, left the dishes by the sink, and threw the containers in the trash.

“HAHHHHHHHH-chiuuhhhhhhhhh!” he sneezed wetly into his hands.  He wasn’t quite sure what time it was – 6 maybe, or 6:30 – but he was dead on his feet.

Bryan was evidently of the same opinion because, when David got back to the bedroom, he could hear Bryan’s low, congested snores from the hall.  Stepping softly into the room, David looked down fondly at his sick, sleeping husband, who murmured just a little in his sleep as he cuddled his pillow.  David reached down to give Bryan’s stubbly cheek a light stroke, then flicked off the lamp on Bryan’s nightstand.

Back in bed himself, David looked at his phone to check the time and found a voicemail from Goldie waiting for him.  Immediately, the worst-case-scenario part of his brain kicked in, and he wondered what could be wrong with Sawyer.  Falls, heretofore-undiscovered food allergies, and other frightening possibilities raced through his mind as he chastised himself for not bringing his phone down to the kitchen with him.  Hastily, he jabbed at the phone to listen to the message, coughing hard into the back of his hand.

“Hey, David – Sawyer’s doing great,” came Goldie’s cheery voice (she knew him well enough, David realized, to know she had to say that straightaway.)  “Shania and I had a blast with him today.  Just letting you know we’ll gladly keep him tonight if that’ll help.  I know what it’s like trying to sleep with a baby in the house, and I’m sure you guys can use all the sleep you can get right now.  Call me if you want him back tonight, otherwise we’ll stop by later tomorrow morning – either to bring him home or to pick up more diapers, food, and stuff if you need another day off.  Either one works for us, really.  Feel better!”

Beside David, Bryan sneezed a breathy “hehhhhhhhhh-shiiooooooo!” into his pillow; David rubbed his back lightly.  Goldie and Shania keeping Sawyer for the night?  No late-night feedings, pacing the nursey, or “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”?  Yeah, David could work with that.

Rubbing his nose with a quiet sniffle, David turned off his own lamp and lay down, slipping an arm around Bryan’s waist.  Between his sore throat, his runny nose, and his aching head, he couldn’t say for sure how well he’d be able to sleep, but at least he had all night to work on it.

[Elyze]

They are so sweet, carrying for the other and trying to relieve each other where they can. The end of this part is so recognizable. When you are feeling like crap, no matter how much you love your kids and want to see them it can feel so good to know they are well cared for somewhere else so you can just concentrate on feeling bad for a while. Welcome to parenthood guys!

[angora48]

Yeah, the guys really still need that break!  Thanks, helyzelle.

Here's Part 20!

 

“Hehhhhhhh-IHHHHHHHH-shiiuuhhhhhhhh!  Hahhhhhhhh… ehhhhhhhhh-CHOOOOOOOOO!”

David woke, groggily, to the sound of Bryan sneezing.  Stretching, he rolled over and saw his husband blowing his nose.  “Gesudheit,” David said with a yawn.  He leaned in to kiss the back of Bryan’s neck.

Dropping his Kleenex into the wastebasket at the side of the bed, Bryan turned around and cozied up to David.  “Hey,” he said, rubbing his nose with his finger.  Although he sounded hoarse, he had enough of a voice that he could actually talk; David smiled and pulled him in for a hug.

“Wow,” Bryan mused, “I cobpletely crashed last dight – I didded’t hear Sawyer at all.  Was he really fussy?”  He adopted a mock pout.  “You could’ve wokedd be, you doh.”

David sniffled, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a cough from the back of his throat.  “Sawyer’s with Goldie,” he replied.

Bryan frowned at that, then winced – if his head felt anything like David’s, David suspected it hurt to furrow his brow.  “Did she dot brig hib back?” he asked, rubbing the spot between his eyes.  “Should we be worried about this – did we just lose our baby?”

“Doh,” David told him, just barely awake enough to be bemused.  “You were out cold whed she called add said she’d keep hib overdight; thought we could use the extra sleep.”

“Well, she’s dot wrog,” Bryan noted.

“Haaahhhhhhhh-chiiuuhhhhhhhh!” David sneezed into his hand.  He reached for a Kleenex, but then, coughing some more, he grabbed his water instead and propped himself up to take a drink.  Bryan tsked fondly and massaged David’s chest as David lay down again.

“Do you feel terrible?” Bryan asked.  He reached across David to pluck a tissue from the box on David’s nightstand and handed it to David.

“I’ve bed better,” David admitted, sheepishly wiping his nose.

“What?!  David owds up to beig addythig less thad a huddred percedt?” Bryan exclaimed.  “Dow I doh you’re feelig awful.”

David grimaced.  “Stop talkig about it, or I’ll take it back,” he warned.

“Dope,” Bryan replied.  “I’ve got you dow, od the record, add y- you cad’t…”  He pressed a hand to his mouth.  “Ahhhhhhhhh-SHIUHHHHHHHH!  Ihhhhhhhhhh… huhhhhhhhhh-CHOOOOOO!”  He groaned.

David gave him a squeeze.  “At least your voice is cobig back,” he pointed out.

“I doh – thadk god for that,” Bryan said, sniffling.  “I wasd’t bade for dot talkig, David.  It’s dot id by dature.”

“You still did pledty of talkig,” David responded.  “Believe be.”  His headache felt like it was drilling into his skull; he rubbed his forehead wearily, letting his eyes close.

Bryan stretched a little and coughed into his fist.  “So Goldie is briggig Sawyer back, right?” he asked.  “We doh that for sure?”

David nodded.  He opened his eyes again.  “Later this bordig,” he explained.  “We’ve still got sobe tibe, I thidk.”

“Good,” Bryan said.  Another sneeze – “haaahhhhhh-chiiuuhhhhhhhhh!” – into the back of his hand.  With a groan, he snuggled comfortably onto David’s chest.  “What do you wadt for breakfast?  I cad do fadcy oatbeal.”

David cleared his throat, sniffling.  “I dod’t wadt you workig too hard,” he warned.  Bryan was definitely better than he’d been yesterday, but he was still pretty sick, and the last thing David needed was for his husband to overdo it.

“But it’s barely work,” Bryan argued.  “It’s just a lot of stirrig, add thed you put stuff id it.”

“How’s your throat?” David asked.  “Are y-”  He gasped, bringing a hand to his face.  “ahhhhhhhhh… hehhhhhhhhh… huhhhhhhhhhhh-SHIIOOOOOOOO!  Uhhh…”

“Bless you,” Bryan said.

Rubbing his nose with the side of his thumb, David gave a small, congested sigh.  “Are you gudda be able to swallow oatbeal?”

Bryan considered this for a long moment, then looked at David with an apologetic grin.  “Eggs?” he asked.

Despite how decidedly-not-great he felt, David couldn’t help smiling, just a little.  “Eggs soud good,” he said.  He turned and coughed a little into the crook of his arm.  “Cad you reach the therbobbeter, babe?”

Bryan turned and looked at his nightstand.  “Uh huh,” he replied.  Twisting around a bit, he reached across the bed and grabbed for the thermometer.  Bryan slipped the thermometer under his tongue (he’d been with David long enough to realize David hadn’t been asking on his own behalf) and nestled up against David again, rubbing his nose while he waited.

When the thermometer beeped, Bryan took it out and, instead of looking at it himself, handed it straight off to David; there was something sweet about that.  “A huddred poidt eight,” David read.  He brushed Bryan’s cheek with his hand.  “Still feverish, but a lot better thad yesterday.”

“That’s what I was goig f- for…” Bryan said, trailing off and catching a “hihhhhhhh-ehhhhhhhh-SHOOOOOO!” in his cupped hands.

David rubbed Bryan’s shoulder lightly.  “Still feelig pretty sdeezy, though,” he observed.

Bryan made a face and gave an endearing little whimper.  “Dow you,” he instructed, and it took David a moment to realize Bryan meant the thermometer.

“Bry…” he began, evasive.

“I’be waitig,” Bryan replied archly.  David could tell he wasn’t going to get his way – sighing, he stuck the thermometer in his mouth.

When, at the beep, David gave the thermometer a quick look and then set it on his nightstand, Bryan said, “Hey!”, giving David a gentle swat on the chest.

“What?” David asked, possibly slightly disingenuous.  Bryan glanced from the thermometer and back to David, then gave David his best “Well?” face.

David sighed again.  “A huddred poidt sevved,” he admitted, then quickly pointed out, “It’s lower thad yours!”

“Yeah, but bide’s od the way dowd,” Bryan countered.  “Yours is od the way up.”  Tsking sympathetically, he held the back of his hand to David’s forehead.

“…Baybe,” David begrudgingly conceded.  His breath started to hitch, and he reached for a Kleenex.  “hihhhhhhhhh-SHIAAHHHHHHH!”

Bryan slipped his arms around David’s neck, kissing his cheek.  “Let’s keep it where it is, okay?” he asked.  “I dod’t wadt you feelig like I did yesterday – that was horrible.”

Sniffling, David nursed an indulgent smile.  “I’ll do by best,” he promised.  Sniffing hard and lazily putting an arm around Bryan, David settled in for just a bit more of a breather before the day got going.

[angora48]

Part 21:

 

For days, Bryan and David had been out of their usual rhythm, which was basically the only way to scrape by with a baby around.  Ever since Bryan had gotten sick, they’d been scrambling to keep up with ordinary daddy demands, and David coming down with it too had blown the whole thing apart.  Yesterday had been an all but literal white flag of surrender, and they’d had to call in the cavalry to look after Sawyer while they tried to sort themselves out.  Well, let’s face it, that was mostly David, although Bryan had tried to help as much as was physically possible for him in his condition.

Today, though… Bryan wasn’t about to call it “good,” or anything like “good,” since he was still feeling pretty crappy and was willing to bet that David felt worse.  (When Goldie and Shania came by, Bryan assured them that he and David had it under control, that they’d missed Sawyer and could pull it together enough to look after him while they had a low-key day of recuperation.  But Bryan had to admit that, as he closed the door on the two of them, he had a momentary urge to run after them and, probably collapsing at their feet, beg them not to go.  He wouldn’t have full-on asked them to stay – he couldn’t have done that to David – but in that moment, he didn’t know if he and David were completely up to the task of raising their child that day.)  But it was definitely better than it had been.

While Bryan and David were far from their normal rhythm, they were pulling themselves back together, at least a little bit.  They’d roughed out a game plan as Bryan had cooked their breakfast – scrambled eggs and tea, with orange slices on the side – and had worked out what they’d hoped would be the most untaxing parenting day ever.  When Sawyer was back home, they set up camp in the living room, laying out his blankie on the floor, setting up his play mobile, and surrounding themselves with his toys before stretching out on the floor with their pillows to join him.  As they lethargically played with their baby, who had way more energy than either of them did, they kept the TV on low, alternating between Bryan stuff (a Say Yes to the Dress marathon) and David stuff (some basketball-related something or other on one of the sports channels - Bryan didn't know) every hour-ish.

In the morning, David did more of the Sawyer-related “work” – feeding, changing, and so on – which gave Bryan time to focus on their lunch, a creamy potato soup.  At the last minute, Bryan second-guessed his ability to swallow chunks of potatoes and veggies, even ones that had been simmering in broth for a couple hours, and he took the immersion blender to the whole thing, pureeing it to a liquid.  They ate while Sawyer was having his second nap of day (thank the good lord for naptime,) lounging at either end of the couch – propped up with pillows, their legs tangled up together in the middle.

After lunch, Bryan did what he could to take as much pressure off of David as possible.  The poor man was having a horrible day, Bryan could tell – sneezing and feverish, with a bad cough and a sore throat.  That was when it started always conveniently being Bryan’s “turn” whenever Sawyer needed anything that required one of them getting up from the floor.  (Although, truth be told, they could’ve had it a lot worse.  Bryan didn’t know if Sawyer was starting to develop a sense of empathy, but the baby wasn’t nearly as fussy or exhausting as he might have been.  Did he get on some level that his daddies couldn’t handle it today?)

Now, Bryan lay propped up on his elbows, stifling a cough into his shoulder as he waggled Sawyer’s stuffed lion in front of him.  Sawyer babbled in delight, reaching forward to try and grab one of the lion’s paws.

Beside him, David crossed his arms on the floor and rested his forehead on them, sneezing, “HAHHHHHHHHH-chiiuuuhhhhhhhh!  Hihhhhhhhhhh-ehhhhhhhhh-SHOOOOOO-uhhhhhhhh!  Uhhh…”  He sniffled wetly.

As David looked back up, Bryan offered him a lopsided smile.  “You should lie dowd, hud,” Bryan noted.

“I ab lyig dowd,” David replied.  He coughed hard into his hands.

“Sobewhere dot od the floor, David,” Bryan countered.

David rubbed his eye, then wiped his nose a little.  “I’be okay,” he said.

Bryan would’ve rolled his eyes if it wouldn’t have aggravated his headache.  “You are debbodstratively d- dot… okay… hehhhhhhhhhhh-uhhhhhhhhhhhhh-CHUHHHHHHHHH!”  He dropped the lion to cup his hands over his mouth.

It might have been his (still somewhat-feverish) imagination, but it seemed like Sawyer only laughed when Bryan sneezed, never David – not too much with the empathy, then.  “You thidk that’s fuddy, bech robot?” Bryan asked.

David tried to hide a yawn behind his hand.  “Dod’t worry about it, Bry,” he advised.

“Easy for you to say,” Bryan replied.  “He doesd’t laugh at y- y…”  Ugh – why did the world hate him so much?  Another sneeze, a hard “AHHHHHHHHH-shuhhhhhhhhh!” into his fist.

A light half-chuckle from David turned into more coughing; as he grabbed the water glass on the carpet beside him and took careful sips, Bryan got back to his original point.  “Lie dowd,” he repeated, shifting so he could reach over and scratch David’s back.  “Just od the couch – you deed a break.”

“We both deed a break,” David pointed out.

“Perfect – you go first,” Bryan said.

As great as David was, he could also be stupidly stubborn, and that’s exactly what he was being right now.  “I’be good for a little while,” he commented, shaking his head.  “You g- hihhhhhhhhh-chiiaahhhhhhhhh!”  Swallowing a sigh, he took a tissue from the box on the floor between them and dabbed at his nose.  “You go ahead.”

Bryan resisted the urge to groan aloud at his husband.  Why did David insist on making it so hard to take care of him?  “Cobe od,” he pressed, pushing himself up to his knees and grabbing David by the arm.  “This is a ‘dod’t take doh for ad adswer’ situashud, David – I’be gudda bug you till you do it, so you bight as well j-” he sputtered into a cough, “-just do it.”

David, sniffling, sighed.  “If it’ll bake you happy…” he began.

Result – if David had to make this about Bryan in order to give himself break, Bryan would take it.  “It’ll bake me v- very ha-appy…”  A new tissue.  “ehhhhhh… ihhhhhhhhh-SHIIUUHHHHHH!”  The Kleenex felt like sandpaper on Bryan’s nose; if he kept this up much longer, he was going to wear it down to a nub.  Still… “For be?” he asked David, laying it on thick with a pouty, pleading expression.

David did roll his eyes, and the wince that followed kind of served him right.  If rolling his eyes at Bryan gave him a headache, it just proved Bryan’s point.  At any rate, he shrugged off Bryan’s efforts to drag him up and begrudgingly moved to the couch of his own volition.  His fever (101.2 at the last count) was high enough that he didn’t need the quilt that was bunched at the end of the couch, but Bryan grabbed David’s pillow from off the floor and slipped it under David’s head.

“I’be just gudda take a bidite,” David commented, sniffling as he rubbed his nose.  “Just rest by eyes – I dod’t deed t- to… ahhhhhhhhhhhh…”  Bryan grabbed a fresh Kleenex and handed it to David.  “hehhhhhhhhhh… ihhhhhhhhhhhh-SHOOOOOOOO!”

“Of course you dod’t,” Bryan drawled.  “Sit tight.”  Getting up (only a bit unsteadily, which was a massive improvement over yesterday,) he moved to the kitchen, keeping an eye on Sawyer in the living room while he heated up a bottle. 

Bryan returned and, grimacing at the pain in his head as he bent down to scoop up Sawyer, sat down on the floor in front of David with his back to the couch.  Bryan stifled a yawn as the baby latched on to the bottle and started suckling.  Behind him, he could feel David’s fingers moving lazily through his hair, and he smiled.  He reached for the remote and switched back to the basketball game, turning the volume down even lower.  A breathy “hihhhhhhhhhh-chiioooooooo!” from David – sleepy-sounding, if that was possible for a sneeze.

Gradually, while Bryan fed Sawyer, David’s stuffed-up breaths started to grow slow with sleep.  Bryan still wouldn’t call it “good,” but it was definitely one small thing that wasn’t terrible.

[angora48]

Part 22:

 

Sleeping in the middle of the day, especially in an atypical place, always had a disorienting effect.  David woke up just shy of bewildered, not sure where he was, what time it was – hell, what day it was.  He lay there blinking for a long, dumb moment before his swimming head started to put it together.  Living room.  Couch.  Sunday.  Afternoon?  …Ish?  “HAAHHHHHHHHHH-chiiiooooooooooooo!” he sneezed, only just having enough presence of mind to catch it in his hands.

 

Groping around, he found a Kleenex box on the floor in front of him and plucked a tissue, wiping his nose and then his palms.  His vision was still just-woke-up fuzzy, and his head wasn’t much better.  There was something else he was missing there, something he wasn’t seeing.  What?

 

It was after he grabbed another Kleenex and started blowing his nose that he realized it – he was alone.  “Bryad?” he called softly, his voice congested and scratchy.

 

Then, there was Bryan, coming down the stairs and around to the couch as David fumblingly pushed himself up to a sitting position.  “Hey,” he said, warm but sounding tired.  “How’re you feelig?”

 

“Where’s Sawyer?” David asked, ignoring the question.  He cupped his hands over his mouth and coughed.

 

Bryan sank down onto the couch beside David.  Reaching over to feel David’s cheek, he explained, “I just put hib dowd for his dap.”

 

A ghost of a smile flickered across David’s face.  “Add I just woke up frob bide,” he observed, a little sheepishly.  He scrubbed his face with his hands, then looked at Bryan, who was rubbing his throat.  “How ‘bout you?” he asked.

 

“Dap?” Bryan replied.  It was kind of tough for David to focus, but his husband seemed a little out of it.  Bryan shook his head.  “Daw, I slept too buch yesterday.”

 

“huhhhhhhhhhhhh-iisshhhhhhhhhh-uhhhhhhhhh!” David sneezed, clamping his hand tightly over his nose.  He sniffled and noted, “You realize that’s kide of the poidt?”

 

“Yes, I doh,” Bryan countered, not quite testy but just a tiny bit ornery.  He cleared his throat.  “I bead, I like goig to bed dext to you add wakig up beside you, b- buhhhhhh…”  He close his eyes and bent forward, sneezing a hard “hehhhhhhhhhhhhh-uhhhhhhhhhhh-SHUUUHHHHHHHH!” into his hands.  “Ugh – but whed we’re actually asleep… well, I bead, you’re there, but…”  He trailed off.

 

David felt himself smiling, just a little.  “Are you sayig you biss be too buch whed you’re sleepig?” he asked.

 

Bryan shrugged, playing fondly innocent.  “Baybe,” he admitted.

 

When they were both sick, David typically preferred kissing on the forehead, the cheek, or the neck instead of the mouth; he was never bothered by Bryan, but David tended to get self-conscious about his own runny nose.  Now, though, he cupped Bryan’s cheek in his hand (Bryan’s scruffy cheek – he still hadn’t shaved) and leaned in to give his husband a small, earnest kiss.  …And then almost immediately ducked back again, wiping his nose.  But for a moment, it hadn’t mattered to him and he’d only had eyes for Bryan being sweet and romantic.

 

For his part, Bryan let his head drop onto David’s shoulder after the kiss and gave his nose a lazy rub.  “ehhhhhhh… ahhhhhhhh… hihhhhhh-CHIUHHHHHHH!” Bryan exploded, sneezing hard into his hands.

 

David slipped an arm around Bryan’s shoulder.  “You okay?”

 

“You dod’t get to ask that addybore,” Bryan informed him.  “It’s by turd to take care of you dow.”

 

And bless him, that’s exactly what Bryan had very valiantly been trying to do.  In and out of the kitchen all morning making soup, running point with Sawyer, continually checking in with (bugging?) David about what he needed, forcing David to lie down and then handling Sawyer on his own while David took a nap… No doubt, Bryan had been making David his top priority all day, but David didn’t want his husband left the worse for wear for it.

 

“That’s dot how it works,” David reminded Bryan.  “We take care of each other.  “Dow, what’s up?”

 

Bryan made a face, but he admitted, “I just feel tired… add headachy…”

 

No wonder, spending so much time looking after David when he still had a bad cold himself.  David pressed the back of his hand to Bryan’s neck, an automatic gesture, even though David knew his own fever would keep him from being able to tell if Bryan’s was starting to inch back up again.  “Whed was the last tibe you- you had asp- pir…”  He clapped a hand over his mouth.  “ihhhhhhhh-SHNNFFFFHH!”

 

“Bless you,” Bryan said, he coughed into his fist, sniffling.  “Ub, it was after ludch…”

David glanced at the clock on the cable box – a little after 2:30.  His head was a bit scrambled to be attempting even basic math, but he knew it was too early yet for Bryan to take any more aspirin.  “Add just to clarify, you dod’t wadt to take a dap?” he asked.

 

“Uh uh,” Bryan murmured.  “hehhhhhhhhh-CHIUUHHHHHHH!  Ugh…”

 

“Okay,” David replied gently, rubbing Bryan’s shoulder.  Once again, an important demonstration of why David shouldn’t get sick until Bryan was at least starting to feel better.  David tried to brainstorm, but it was slow going – it felt like his brain was as blocked up as his nose.

 

Finally, David stumbled across something that might help.  “How ‘bout a bath?” he asked.  “Dice warb bath, that’d feel good.”  He rubbed Bryan’s stubble with his thumb.  “Get you clead up a bit…”

 

Bryan groaned, burying his face in David’s shoulder.  “Dod’t rebide be – I’be a bess.”

 

David smiled a little, hugging Bryan with one arm and rubbing his nose with his free hand.  “Sobe of us are okay with beig a bess whed we’re dot feelig the best,” he pointed out (in the privacy of their own homes, at least,) “but I doh that’s dot you.”  He sniffed.  “Bight bake you feel a little better?”

 

Bryan turned so his words wouldn’t get muffled in David’s shoulder.  “Are you cobig?”

 

Another smile – David loved that man so much.  “Sure,” he agreed fondly.  “We cad take turds.  C- cobe… uhhhhhhh…”  He turned, sneezing a “hihhhhhhh-chiiooooooooo!” into the crook of his arm.  Sniffling sheepishly, he said, “Uh, cobe od.”  He pushed himself up to his feet, then grabbed Bryan by the hand, and the two made their way for the stairs.

Edited March 5, 2018 by angora48
fixed spacing issues

[queenie]

This is darling! There’s so much from when I was last here!! David is starting to feel really terrible now, and Bryan is being really cute trying to take care of him. I never want this to end!

[angora48]

Thanks, queenie - I really appreciate the comment!  Afraid I can't help with the "never end" part, but it's not over yet.  The guys guys have to be sick and cute for a little bit longer.  ;-)

Here's Part 23!

 

David sat on the edge of the tub, feeling the water as it poured from the faucet.  “How’s that?” he asked Bryan.  “Good?”

Bryan, sniffling, reached over David’s shoulder to touch the water.  “Uh huh,” he said, nodding.  David put the plug in and let the tub fill while Bryan lethargically undressed.

“Hahhhhhhhhh-ehhhhhhhh-CHOOOOOOO!” Bryan sneezed into his hand, unbalancing himself a little as he made to get into the tub; he grabbed the towel rod to steady himself.

“Okay?” David asked, at his side.

Bryan nodded.  He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, then eased himself carefully into the tub.  Immediately, he let out a contented little murmur that made David smile.

“See?” David asked.  He sat down on the floor beside the tub and brushed Bryan’s bangs back.  “I have a good idea dow add thed.”

Rubbing his nose, Bryan nodded again.  “Both of us are the sbart wud add the sexy wud,” he observed.  “How do other couples baddage?”

David chuckled a little, then coughed hard into his fist.  “Your guess is as good… as… hihhhhhhh-SHHHNNNNKKKHHH!”  He sneezed into the crook of his arm.

Bryan gave a sympathetic murmurer and squeezed David’s shoulder, leaving a wet mark on David’s T-shirt.  “David, we talked about that,” he pointed out.

At first, David hardly realized he’d done it, tried to hold his sneeze in.  It just seemed natural to him when Bryan was having a rough time, and Bryan definitely seemed a little worse-off than he had that morning.  Taking care of Sawyer while trying to make it easy for David was wearing Bryan out, and the glum exhaustion on Bryan’s face made David want to reassure his husband that he didn’t need Bryan working so hard on his behalf.

But David has also seen Bryan’s point yesterday:  when they were both as sick as they were, David’s flimsy attempts to downplay it had the opposite of a reassuring effect.  So, sniffling hard, David mumbled, “Sorry – habit,” and coughed into the back of his hand.

Lazily, Bryan started to scrub his body, getting a bit of assistance from David (reclining comfortably in the tub, he was hardly likely to sit up so he could reach his legs.)  Rubbing his nose, Bryan sniffled and stifled a cough.  “What’re you thidkig?” David asked him.  “Sick day toborrow?”

“By, how the tables have turd,” Bryan observed, his smile drowsy but endearing.  “Ared’t you the bad who always tells be, ‘It’s just a cold, Bry – do you really deed t- to stay… hobe…  EHHHHHHHH-hihhhhhhh-chiuhhhhhhhhhh!”  He groaned, wiping his nose.

“I’be dot sayig every tibe,” David replied.  “I’be sayig this tibe.”  Bryan was starting, very gradually, to get a little better, and David was worried that dragging himself back to work was going to make him feel worse again.  And honestly, since when did David have to convince Bryan to stay home sick.  “You doh you wadt to,” he coaxed, teasing lightly.

"God, I do," Bryan admitted with a heavy sigh.  He sank low in the tub, rubbing his nose on the side of his hand.  "I've really bed tryig, David - add I've bed respodsible, right?  Respodsible add pragbatic, way bore thad addybody should reasobably expect f- fr..."  He covered his mouth.  "ehhhhhhhh... hahhhhhhhhh-ihhhhhhhhhh-CHOOOOOOO!"  He swallowed a stuffed-up little moan.  "...Frob a dyig bad..."

A smile tugged at the corner of David's mouth.  "Gesudheit - very respodsible add pragbatic," he agreed fondly.  He leaned down to kiss Bryan's forehead.  "I thidk you've eard a day off."

Bryan began giving his arms a lackadaisical rinse.  “I will if you will,” he said.

“Hud…” David began, balking.

“You’re dot gudda see addy patiedts while you’re sick addway!” Bryan pointed out.  “How buch paperwork do you really deed to do?”

David was dreading the idea of going into the clinic tomorrow.  Apart from the general self-consciousness of being sick around the other doctors, he had to admit, it had been a long time since he'd felt this crappy.  “…We’ll see how we’re both feeli- ihhhhhhh…”  David buried his face in the crook of his arm.  “hihhhhhhhhh-chiiiaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”  He sniffed.  “…How we’re feelig toborrow.”

Bryan shook his head in a dissatisfied way, but he let it drop, at least for the moment.  He settled back, tilting his head a bit to get his hair wet.  “Ih- ihhhhhhhh…”  He tensed, cupping his hands over his mouth for a hard “ehhhhhhhh-SHIIUHHHHHHH!”  Though he made a face and sniffled, he observed, “It feels good od by throat – the steab.”

David smiled.  “I hoped it would.  Steam cad be really good if you have a cough or-” he sniffed, “-or a sore throat.”  Not for nothing, David’s chest and throat felt a little better too – it seemed like he’d been wheezing most of the day, but now, he could breathe a bit more easily.

“Mbb, I doh,” Bryan said, sounding more relaxed than he had all week – even asleep, he hadn’t been as relaxed as this.  Eyes closed, he sniffled and felt along the edge of the tub for the shampoo bottle.  David, amused, moved it to his hand.  “Th- tha… IHHHHHHHHH-shiaahhhhhhh!”  Bryan turned away, sneezing into the back of his hand.  “…Thadks.”  He sniffled.

David rubbed his nose, then leaned down to kiss Bryan’s temple.  “Gesudheit – how’s the headache?”

“Dot quite as bad,” sniffling, “I thidk,” Bryan said.  “Or baybe I just dod’t care as buch ‘cause I’be so cobfy.”  He sniffled again, stifling a cough as he lathered up his hair.

“Could be,” David agreed.  “ahhhhhhh… hehhhhhhhh…”  They’d grabbed one of the Kleenex boxes from the bedroom when they came in here, and David seized a tissue now, holding it to his nose.  “hehhhhhhh-ihhhhhhhh-CHUHHHHHHHH!”  The sneeze was messy; David swallowed a sigh and mopped up his nose.  What they’d forgotten to grab was either of the two wastebaskets by the bed, and David didn’t feel like getting up to get one now.  He wadded up the tissue and dropped it onto the bathmat, sniffling as he surreptitiously wiped his hand on his pajama pants.

“Hihhhhhhhh-SHOOOOOOO-uhhhhhhhhh!” Bryan sneezed into his hands, splattering a few dots of shampoo on David as the force of it made his head rock forward.  He offered David a sheepish look and an apologetic smile.

“Wash up,” David instructed fondly, rubbing his nose.

Bryan slid forward so he could get his hair under the water.  He rubbed his hair with one hand, coughing into the back of the other.  “That’s so buch better, David,” he enthused wearily.  “You-” he sniffed, twice, “-you have doh idea!”

David had some idea.  Bryan didn’t have a single qualm about sneezing or coughing in front of people, and he’d gladly moan about his symptoms to anyone he could get to listen, but if he ever got self-conscious about being sick, it was in his worries about looking or sounding ugly.  David knew Bryan’s red nose was a sore spot for him (pun intended,) along with his raspy voice yesterday, and it had probably keen killing him at least a little that he hadn’t showered or shaved since Friday.  No doubt that, for Bryan, getting cleaned up was a sort of medicine of its own.

Bryan was still sniffling – he wiped his nose with his palm.  “God, by dose is-” sniffle, “-really bad right dow.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the steab too,” David said with a sympathetic smile.  “Good for your throat, but ihh…”  Ugh, he didn’t want to sneeze again – he rubbed his itchy nose with his finger.  “It bakes a- a bess of your…”  He wasn’t going to make it.  Another tissue.  “Huhhhhhhhh-IHHHHHHHHH-shiooooooooo!  Hahhhhhhhh-ehhhhhhhhh-SHIIUUHHHHHHH!”

When David opened his eyes, Bryan was wiping his own nose.  “Bless you,” Bryan said.  He reached over the side of the tub for the Kleenex box.  “Could you…?”

Quickly, David wiped with the tissue and dropped it on the floor.  He loved Bryan for not commenting on David’s nose being just as runny and messy as his own.  Bryan could have said, “Looks like that makes two of us!” or something cringe-worthy and winking like that.  But he left it alone, ignoring it completely outside of blessing David for the sneeze.  Inwardly relieved, David picked up the box and held it out to Bryan, who took a Kleenex.

The second Bryan gripped the tissue with both hands, it tore apart in his wet fingers.  After his consideration to David, David figured it was his duty not to laugh at the dismayed look on Bryan’s face as he stared down at his hands, covered in wet, shredded Kleenex.  He looked up again.  “David…” he said in an adorably pleading tone.

Wiping his hands on his pajama pants again, David plucked two fresh Kleenexes from the box and, gently, held them to Bryan’s nose.  “Go ahead,” David told him.

Bryan closed his eyes and gave a long, hard blow, pausing a couple times for David to rearrange the tissues and find a new dry spot.  When Bryan quieted, David asked, “Dud?” not moving the tissues from Bryan’s nose.  Bryan nodded, and David, sniffling himself, wiped his husband’s nose clean, careful to go easy on Bryan’s chapped nostrils.

“Oh by god, I’be sorry,” Bryan groaned, sinking lower into the tub as David tossed the Kleenexes aside.  “I thidk that’s the boste disgustig thig I’ve ever dud.”  He put his hands underwater to wash the wet Kleenex off them.

David smiled.  “You’re okay,” he assured Bryan.

“Go wash up – I bead it,” Bryan instructed.  “I dod’t wadta to thidk about by sdot od your hadds.”

David hauled himself up (a little dizzily – with the door closed, the bathroom was getting pretty hot) and moved to the sink.  He’d just finished washing when he clapped a hand over his mouth to cover a “HUHHHHHHHH-ehhhhhhhhh-SHUHHHHHH!”  Sighing, he washed again.

Before long, David was helping Bryan out of the tub and wrapping a towel around his shoulders.  “Thadks,” Bryan said, sniffling.  He sat on the edge of the tub and pulled the plug out.  “What do you thidk – dot as hot for you?”

“Why?” David asked.  “Was-” he sniffed hard, “-was it too hot?”

“Doh, it was perfect – I loved it,” Bryan replied seriously.  He stifled a cough into his fist.  “I just thought, ‘cause your fever’s a little higher thad bide…”

It was a good point, one David should’ve thought of.  “Right,” he mumbled, rubbing his forehead.  “Souds good.”  He sniffed and wiped his nose.

“Okay,” Bryan agreed.  He buried a strong “hihhhhhhhh-CHIIAAAHHHHHHH!” in the crook of his arm and turn the water on again.  Hearing another sniffle from David, Bryan said, “David seriously, your poor dose.  I…” He clambered up, pulling the towel more tightly around himself, “…ab gudda go get the wastebasket, add that’s going to take ad udreasodably log tibe – pledty of tibe for sobewud to do whatever he bight deed to do id by absedce.”  With that, he shuffled out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him; David reached self-consciously for the Kleenex box.

David had already taken care of his nose by the time he heard Bryan calling from the bedroom, “I’be approachig the door, draggig this surprisingly-heavy wastebasket after be!  Leh- IHHHHHHH-shiiuhhhhhhh!  Ugh…”  David smiled – that man.  “Let be doh if it deeds to be evedd heavier than I thought it was!”

“Get id here,” David called back.  He coughed into the back of his hand, then peeled off his T-shirt and pulled down his pajama pants and boxers.

As David climbed into the tub, Bryan appeared in the doorway, the towel wrapped around his waist and the wastebasket dangling in his hand.  “Biss be?” he asked.

David smiled drowsily.  “Always,” he replied.