#no fatigue. no fever. no aches. no nothing. i had a bandaid on my arm. that was it. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluffyllamas-23 · 6 years

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Day 7: Temperature

This is for the final day of sickdays, and I’m SO excited for this one. I’ve had this written for about a week, mostly just because I’ve been really looking forward to introducing my new boys some more.

Gabriel rubs his eyes with a low groan. He’s coming off a thirty-six hour shift, and he wants nothing more than to curl up next to Ezra and sleep off what’s most definitely a fever and the start of what’s going to be a really terrible flu. He can feel it in his bones and his muscles - the way they absolutely ache is telling of the misery to come, and he’s dreading it.

He’s sort of dreading going home, too, not because he doesn’t want to be there (because he does, with every fiber of his being), but because Ezra is most definitely going to be pissed at him for taking another overtime shift when they had plans. He thinks that he vaguely remembers maybe talking to him about it last night...or this afternoon through text...but his brain is mush from how fatigued and feverish he’s feeling, and he can hardly tell which way is up at this point.

His car is in the shop, because it’s having engine problems again, and since Ezra had work today and needed their one working car, Gabe took the bus. Unfortunately, his shift ended way past the last ride, which he hadn’t been counting on. He considers calling Ezra to come get him, because it’s a twenty-minute walk home, and he’s freezing, but Ezra is probably pissed enough as it is (and exhausted, he tells himself).

He doesn’t need to call him. Gabe is a grown man, he can definitely suck it up and make the walk home without needing to call his husband to come get him (even though every part of him is screaming at him to do so)

It starts raining halfway through his walk, and by the time he gets home, he’s soaked all the way through and is shivering so badly that his teeth are chattering and his jaw is aching.

“Welcome home!” Ezra calls from the kitchen. There’s the sound of something shattering, and then a sharp “shit! Don’t come into the kitchen, I dropped a plate.”

“I’mb sorry,” Gabe whimpers, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“What? What are you sorry about?” Ezra frowns, walking into the living room and over to Gabe. “Gabe? Honey? Oh god...you’re really pale...and wet. Why are you wet?”

“I mbissed-we had-I’mb sorry,” he cries, pressing, his forehead to the front of Ezra’s shoulder. “Please dond’t be mbad”

“Why on earth would I be mad?” Ezra frowns, rubbing Gabe’s back. “You’re really warm, I think you have a fever.”

“Probably. Everyth’gg hurts.”

“Why are you soaked?”

“I mbissed the bus.”

“...And you didn’t think that calling me to come get you would have been a better idea than walking?”

“I thought you were mbad,” he says in the tiniest voice, voice muffled by the fabric of Ezra’s shirt.

“Even if I was mad, which I’m not, I love you, you moron. I don’t care how mad I am - or how mad you think I am - I will always come get you if you need a ride.”

“...Oh.”

“Go take a shower, I’ll get you some medicine and tea and I’ll put that blanket in the dryer for you. Sound good?”

He sniffles, “but we have plands.”

“...That’s not until Saturday, angel. It’s only Thursday,” he says gently.

“...Oh…fuck, are you serious?” Gabe whines.

“Is that why you thought I was mad? Because you worked overtime and thought we had plans?” He asks. Gabe gives a tiny nod, face pressed firmly into Ezra’s chest and arms wrapped around his middle. “We talked about it last night. I knew you were working overtime. Which, speaking of that, you must be exhausted.”

Gabe tries to respond to that, but all he does is turn away from him to cough and cough and cough. When the fit is over, tears are in his eyes and Ezra’s hand is on his back, rubbing circles over his wet shirt.

“I think I’mb getting sick,” he croaks weakly, swaying as he blinks heavily at Ezra.

“I think you’ve surpassed ‘getting sick’ and are firmly planted in the ‘definitely sick’ territory, honey.”

“Mbaybe.”

“Come on. Shower and then bed.”

Gabe somehow manages not to pass out in the shower - a feat that shouldn’t be as impressive as it is, but given how tired and dizzy and just downright awful he’s feeling, it is.

He feels a bit like he’s floating as he dries off, changes and clambers into bed. Ezra comes into the room a little while later, Gabe’s favorite purple, fluffy blanket draped over one arm, his heating pad draped over the other, and a mug of what Gabe assumes is hot tea in hand.

“How are you feeling? Did the shower help?”

Gabe shrugs, too tired to say anything and feeling too awful to voice what exactly is wrong.

Ezra plugs the heating pad in, hands it to him and then drapes the blanket over him. The warmth envelops him and makes the shivering abate only slightly before he feels Ezra climb into bed next to him.

Ezra has to go to work the next day, as much as he’d like to call out to stay home with Gabe, he can’t. Sub plans are a nightmare to put together last minute, and the boys’ tennis team has their first game of the season and he has to go to that.

“I have to leave now,” Gabe says quietly, putting a hand on Ezra’s forehead. “Do you feel better?”

“Ndot really,” Gabe croaks, “I’ll be finde though...go to work. Hope your kids beat the shit out of the other teamb.”

Ezra chuckles, “I don’t know about that, but I hope we win, too. I left some medicine on the nightstand and i set a timer on your phone for when it's time for you to take some. There’s some Mac n cheese in the fridge, it just needs to be heated up.”

“Okay,”

“I’ll try and stop by at lunch to check on you.”

“You dond’t have to,” Gabe mumbles, “I’ll be finde.”

“Okay, but you never eat when you’re sick. I’m not getting home until seven and I’d rather you don’t die on me. I like you a lot...some might even say I love you, and I would miss you, so just humor me.”

Gabe sniffles and shivers as he pulls the blanket tighter around himself.

“Alright.”

“Text me if you need anything. Try and sleep as much as you can...I know we’re supposed to go out tomorrow night, if you’re feeling better then maybe we can do something a little bit more low-key.”

“Yeah, mbaybe.”

Ezra leans down to peck him on the lips, “I’m going now. Love you, feel better.”

“Dond’t kiss mbe,” Gabe whines. “You’re goi’gg to get sick.”

“We’ve been cuddling all night, angel. I’ve already been exposed,” Ezra grins, ruffling his hair.

“Whatever,” Gabe gripes. “Dond’t whinde at mbe whend you catch this.”

Ezra chuckles lightly, “I won’t I promise. Okay, I really need to go now, see you in a few hours.”

When Ezra gets home, Gabe is sitting up on the couch, clutching the heating pad to his chest. He’s trembling, eyes glassy and filled with tears as he blinks tiredly at Ezra.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Ezra frowns, setting his bag on the floor.

“I tried to get water and I broke all the cups,” he rasps.

“You...how?”

“Dropped themb,” he whimpers, biting his bottom lip as he stares at the couch sadly.

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean to, don’t cry,” Ezra says gently, kissing his burning forehead. “Where’s your blanket?”

“Ind the dryer...I’mb cold. The heati’gg pad is brokend, too.”

Ezra frowns and crouches in front of him before glancing at the cord to the heating pad. He bites his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing when he sees that it’s unplugged, because Gabe is so upset, Ezra doesn’t have the heart to laugh at him.

“Let me fix that for you, can I see it for a second?”

Gabe nods slowly, handing it to him. Ezra plugs it in for him, turns it on, and hands it to him.

“Shit, you’re the best,” Gabe mumbles, glassy eyes going wide.

“I’m going to go check on the blanket and then I’ll clean up the glass. I’ll be right back,” he says.

“I cand cleand it,” he sniffles. “You’ll cut yourself.”

“So will you, and you really don’t need to spend hours in the emergency room because you need stitches. You just keep your cute little ass parked on the couch and let me clean it up, okay?”

Ezra walks into the laundry room and shoves the blanket in the dryer the rest of the way, turns it on for ten minutes and then walks into the kitchen. There’s a single glass shattered on the floor, not all of them like Gabe had thought, and once it’s all cleaned up, Ezra only needs one bandaid for the cut he managed on the palm of his hand.

The dryer goes off, and when Ezra walks back into the living room with the blanket, Gabe is staring at the clicker to the TV in complete confusion.

“You wanna watch something?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ezra drapes the blanket over him and takes the clicker from him.

“What’re you in the mood for?”

“Brooklynnd ndinde ndinde.”

“I want to get a reading on that fever, Gabe,” Ezra says, turning on the show for him. “You’re too out of it, I don’t like it.”

“I dond’t kndow where the thermbombeter is.”

“I’ll find it, don’t worry. Do you want to lie down? Maybe get some sleep?”

Gabe nods tiredly, “umb...will you cuddle with mbe? I dond’t wandt to get you sick but-“

“-That’s not even a question, angel,” Ezra says gently. “Of course I’ll cuddle with you. Let me just go find the thermometer and some medicine.”

Ezra coaxes Gabe off the couch to bed, and Ezra spends the rest of the night running his fingers through Gabe’s hair with him on top of his chest.

#OCs #Gabe and Ezra #sickfic #coughing #congestion #fever

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