David sniffled and looked miserably at the TV. Didn't anyone ever think of complaining about how truly TV sucked? Daytime TV especially sucked in ways that were beyond the limits of imagination. David could say this with some assuredness, because for the last... he glanced at the clock... three days, seven hours and twenty-four minutes, give or take, he had done nothing except sleep and watch really crappy television. He felt entirely justified in being extremely irritated.
Actually, David could almost be grateful for the enforced rest, if it had happened any other time. But no, of course it happened when Nick was keeping his post-buried alive promise to visit home more often. It wasn't that he begrudged Nick time with his family, some days, it was all he could do not to be incredibly jealous of Nick's close relationship with his parent, but it didn't mean he had to like *this*.
This coughing and sniffling and the constant inability to breath properly because clearly flu-jab's meant *nothing* and fate the cruel bitch that it was had given David the worst cold, bordering on flu he'd had since he was twenty-one. And at least, David reasoned, he'd earned it that time, he should have known better than to stand in the rain for three hours for tickets to a band he hated to impress a girl he barely liked. Plus then, it had been a really handy excuse to stay locked in his dorm with his room mate for a week and completely miss the concert.
But no, fate had dealt him an entirely unfair blow. In fact David felt justified in being even more annoyed than he might other wise have been, because he'd actually been almost *nice* to people lately... well Nick's friends anyway, people in general he had no time for. Oh and it had done it when Nick was in Texas! Leaving David to fend for himself, between Greg's daily visits and lame attempts to cheer him up. Although, David could grudgingly admit, Greg made surprisingly good Chicken soup.
/And we'll be right back after this break/
David heard the nasal TV announcer say before he flicked the off-button because even staring at the ceiling was more entertaining. He wanted to call Nick, but he couldn't, because David had insisted Nick not tell his family about them, because David knew all too well the ending that could result in, but still he badly wanted to hear that soft Texas drawl murmuring comforting words in his ear. And if that sounded at all sappy, he blamed it on the lack of higher brain functions due to oxygen deprivation, because clearly fate thought making his throat swell and his nose feel like it had wads of tissue stuffed up them, was amusing. David didn't find it at all amusing.
He wanted Nick. He wanted strong arms around him. Someone to rub his back when he lost the nice chicken soup Greg had just fed him... someone that wasn't Greg, because he had been doing it, but it was just no where near as nice as when Nick did it. Someone to say he was going to be alright, even thought he quite logically knew that, because knowing it and hearing it, were too different things. He wanted to wake up sweaty and feverish and have gentle hand pressing a cooling cloth against his skin. Okay maybe he didn't want any of those things, actually he'd rather just not be sick, but if he had to be, was it really too much to ask for the simple comfort of a lover?
David let himself drift back off to sleep, mainly because he had nothing better to do, at least not that didn't require movement and really that whole room spinning thing was old news, so he slept. Letting his mind wander and drift, imagining the sounds Nick makes when he's there.
The soft footfalls. The light curses every time he hits his head on the dream catcher hanging just inside David's front door - the one old Mrs. Henley next door had bought him and he didn't have the heart to tell her he didn't believe in them. The way he always managed to hit his head on the cabinet door where David stored his glasses. David almost felt relaxed, boneless, floating, just enjoying the vivid reality of his fever induced dreams, when soft hands startled him.
"Wha..." the word was meant to be yelled, but it was barely a squeak, he should have fallen off the sofa, but firm hands held him in place and when a drink that smelled like lemon and honey with a hint of something David couldn't identify was shoved under his nose he was *positive* he should protest, but he just took a sip and made the face of a man who'd been fed poison.
"Eww... what is that?" David croaked. Trying to lie back down.
"Mom gave me the recipe. It's good stuff. Taste's terrible, but it'll do what it's designed for. Come on drink up," Nick's voice was so calming and sincere David did exactly what he said, even if it did leave him feeling like he wanted to retch the first few times.
"When... I thought..." David tried to speak again but he started coughing like he was about to hack up a lung, blissfully however, neither his poor attempt at lunch nor Nick's concoction made a reappearance.
"Greg called me, said you were sick. Although *you* should have called me." Nick said.
David flopped backwards onto the sofa again. "I didn't want to bother you. Besides how were you suppose..." David paused, fighting the urge to cough again. "Nick... why did your mother give you that recipe?"
"Because you are sick. It's suppose to help you feel better. Also, next time I go home I'm under orders to bring you." Nick said.
"You..." David could no longer prevent the coughing fit, forced to sit up, Nick behind him, because choking on his own tongue was not good.
"Easy... easy big guy... that's it." Nick said softly, his breath tickling David's ear as he helped him steady himself.
"You told." David croaked.
"Actually my father asked. Apparently they already suspected I was seeing someone... a man... Greg's call just sorta confirmed it. Now, you are going to lie down and rest, while I call my folks and let them know I arrived safe, then I'm going to tuck you up in bed and you *will* stay there until you are fit enough to stand by yourself for more than five minutes at a time. Just relax." Nick murmured softly, pressing his lips against the clammy skin of David's forehead.
David was positive Nick should be grossed out by that... actually he was positive *he* should be grossed out by that, but Nick was there, being all well... Nick... and that was really very nice. David smiled sleepily as Nick tucked the blanket from the back of the sofa around him and drifted back to sleep with the comforting sounds of Nick moving around their home in the background. Maybe fate wasn't such a bitch after all.