In Sickness and Health
by Karen and LB
© 2002
JC almost never got sick. And when he did, he hated it. So when he woke up this morning with aching muscles and a fever, he just wanted to pull the covers over his head for a week. "I HATE being sick," he moans.
Lance knew something was wrong even before he heard JC's cry. The bed was hotter than usual, and not in the fun way. "Darlin', you're burning up," he remarks sleepily.
"I am," JC says piteously. "Can I have some aspirin?"
"Don't move. You are not leaving this bed today." Lance heaves himself off the bed and shakes off his fatigue. Aspirin--the bathroom medicine cabinet. He grabs the bottle, then heads to the upstairs refrigerator and grabs a bottle of fresh, cold water. "Take these," he orders JC, then reaches for the phone. After clearing the schedule for the day, he settles back on the bed and brushes JC's damp hair from his head. "Wow, you're really hot."
"I know." JC sniffs sadly. "You shouldn't stay. I'll just get you sick."
"I'll be fine. I just won't kiss you," he says with a smile.
"What would I do without you? I'd be all alone."
"You'll never be alone." Lance goes back into the bathroom and wets a washcloth with cold water, then returns to JC's bedside and places the compress on JC's forehead.
"That feels good. How'd you know to do that?"
"That's what my mom used to do when I'd get sick."
"Moms are great at this stuff."
"Yeah, they are."
"I don't FEEL good."
"I know you don't, darlin', but you will in a day or two. You just need to rest. And you need to drink something. How about some juice?"
"Do you have the good kind?"
"The kind with the pulp that you like?"
JC sniffles again and reaches for a kleenex. "Yeah."
"You bet. I'll go get you a glass. You need anything else?"
"Not, not right now. You're sure we don't have to do anything today?"
"Not anymore, we don't. I'm getting you that juice."
" 'Kay." JC fusses with his pillow, turning it over and laying his burning face against the cool side.
Concerned, Lance gives JC's head one more pat and heads downstairs to get the juice. On the way back to the bedroom, he finds JC's phone book and calls his doctor for advice. When he returns to the bedroom, JC is asleep, restlessly struggling with the bedcovers. Lance adjusts them, then turns up the air-conditioner and sits by the bed, magazine in hand.
When JC awakens again a couple of hours later, he manages to bleat out one word. "Cold." He sits up woozily and tries to pull up the blanket he'd cast off earlier.
"Whoa." Lance jumps up, the magazine he'd been reading fluttering to the carpet. "Let me do that." He coaxes JC back down, then adjusts the thick comforter around JC's neck, and kisses his wet forehead. He pours two more aspirin tablets into his hand and opens the bottle of water. "Here, take these."
"Can't. Am I gonna die?"
"You are not gonna die. Now be a good boy and take the aspirin." Lance sits on the bed and repositions JC so he's leaning against him. "Do it for me, okay?"
Shivering, JC manages to swallow the pills. "So cold. Why am I so cold?"
"It's the virus." Lance rubs JC's arms, then reaches for his cell phone. He calls the local supermarket and within 20 minutes the doorbell rings. Lance leaves the dozing JC and prepares the chicken broth he'd ordered, then returns to the bedroom, the soup on a tray with some plain tea.
JC looks at the tray with gratitude, then sadness. "I'm wrecking your day."
"How are you wrecking it?" Lance asks, putting the tray across JC's lap and tucking a cloth napkin under his chin. "There's no place else I'd rather be. I brought up a stack of movies, so you can watch and sleep."
"You could be doing fun stuff, not waiting on me."
"Fine. I'll just go out and leave you here to suffer by yourself," Lance says seriously, then breaks into a smile. "I don't mind, really. The more I can help you the sooner you'll get better so we can do fun stuff together. Now eat your soup." He hold up a spoonful to JC's lips.
"No one's ever taken care of me like this," JC says, tearily. "Not since I was little."
"I like taking care of you." Even as the words spill out of his mouth, Lance realizes he never HAD to take care of anyone before, not like this. "This is what you do when you love someone."
JC swallows a bit of soup and sniffs. "You're doing a really good job."
"I don't think I'm ready for medical school, but I like doing stuff for you. And I want to make sure you get better so that we can have fun."
"You're doing fine without medical school."
"I'll know I'm doing fine when you get better."
"I'm trying. I can't eat anymore, though."
"Okay. That's enough for now, but I'll heat some more up later. And try to drink some of this tea."
JC shakes his head. "Gotta sleep."
"C'mon, one sip, then sleep. You're supposed to drink a lot of fluids."
"Okay." JC looks up at Lance with heavy lidded eyes, then sips. "Is that enough?"
"For now." He puts the tray aside and arranges the covers around his sick lover. "Comfortable?"
"Everything hurts."
"I know it does, darlin'. The aspirin should help." Lance fluffs the pillows around JC's head, wishing there was something else he could do. He takes one of JC's hands and begins to massage it gently. "You want some music? I can turn the volume low."
"Not now. My head hurts."
"Close your eyes." Lance rubs JC's temples, hoping to soothe him.
JC closes his eyes and tries to relax, but his head is throbbing, and Lance's touch, well-intentioned as it is, just makes it hurt more. "Can you . . . can you turn off the light, please?"
"Sure. Anything." He shuts the light, then closes the drapes, making the room as dark as possible. "Now try and get some sleep."
"Yeah. And Lance?"
"What, babe?"
JC is almost asleep, but he manages to murmur, "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Lance whispers, as he watches JC fall fast asleep. He takes a seat in the large lounge chair by the bed and puts on his discman, occasionally looking over at the bed to see if JC needs the covers adjusted.
The next time JC wakes up, he's burning up again, pushing the covers aside, then trying to get out of bed entirely.
Lance moves to his side quickly, removing the comforter and taking JC by the shoulders gently to ease him back down. "Easy. Just lie back. I know you're hot. You just wait here and I'll get a nice, cool bath running."
"No! I have to find Lance."
"I'm right here, darlin'." Lance puts a hand to JC's forehead and frowns. "I'll be back in two seconds." He rushes to the bathroom and begins to fill the tub will cool water, then returns to the bed. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm right here."
"Lance? I thought I lost you. Was it a dream?"
"Yeah, it was just a bad dream." He starts undressing JC, his pajamas soaking wet. "Put your arm around my shoulder." He helps JC up, then walks him to the bathroom. After testing the water, he helps JC into the large tub, then sits on the edge. "This'll cool you off."
The water is a shock against JC's hot skin and he looks down, almost expecting to see steam rising. He lets his head fall back weakly against the tiles and lets out a little moaning sigh.
Lance puts a neck pillow behind JC's head and runs a cool washcloth over his skin. "Just a few minutes, okay?"
"Yeah," JC says. "I think it's helping."
"Good." He dampens the washcloth and rests it on JC's forehead. "Just concentrate on getting better."
"It's not working."
"Think about getting back to the studio."
"I can't. My brain doesn't work."
"Then close your eyes and pretend you're at the beach."
"Are you there with me?"
"Of course. I'm rubbing the suntan lotion on you."
"Mmmm. Yeah." JC relaxes and his head finds a more comfortable place on the pillow.
"So the sooner you get better the sooner I can do that."
"Really?" JC asks hopefully. "Nah, we gotta work."
"We'll find the time." Lance soaks the washcloth and then squeezes it over JC's shoulders.
Drowsily, JC opens his eyes slightly and makes an effort at smiling. "Yeah, we will."
"First, we gotta get you out of this water. Put your arm around my shoulder."
"Wha? Oh . . . " Befuddled, JC swings his rubbery limb around Lance.
JC's dead weight feels heavier than usual, and Lance has to use some effort to lift him out of the tub, but he manages, glad that Freddy has pushed him so hard to work out. He has a towel waiting and wraps JC in it, leading him back to the bedroom at the same time. He lowers him carefully onto the bed and finishes drying him off, then adjusts the air-conditioner again. Returning to JC's side, he puts his hand on JC's forehead. "You're still warm."
"I am? I can't tell anymore."
Lance retrieves some clean underwear and puts them on JC, then climbs on the bed and strokes JC's hair. "You'll be okay. You just need to sleep."
"Yeah. Sleep is good."
And he does. For another two hours. Even Lance dozes off later on, and when he awakens JC is sleeping more peacefully than he had all day. He checks JC's skin and finds that his temperature has, indeed, gone down. Relieved, Lance remains on the bed, watching his boyfriend. He was worried that he wouldn't be able to take care of JC. If he couldn't take care of JC when he had a virus, what would he do when JC was old? He wanted--no, needed to know that he had it in him to be the provider.
JC awakens slowly, but he's aware of Lance's presence, Lance's scrutiny for a long time. When he finally opens his eyes, he smiles. "Hey, you."
"Hey," Lance says softly. "How are you feeling?"
"A little better, I think."
"Better enough to have more soup? Maybe some Saltines?"
"I'll try."
"Good boy." Lance scurries to the kitchen and quickly reheats some more soup and brings JC a fresh, cold bottle of water. "Your mom called and Justin called while you were sleeping."
"You didn't tell my mom I was sick, did you? She'll worry."
"She heard it from Johnny, but don't worry. I told her I was taking care of everything and that you're fine. When you're up to it, you can call her."
"Okay." JC nibbles a cracker. "I just don't want her to worry."
"She will, but that's what moms do."
"I know," JC says, spooning soup. "And, apparently, boyfriends."
"I just hate seeing you like this."
"You're taking really good care of me, but . . . "
"What? What's wrong?"
"I haven't seen you eat anything today."
"I'm fine. I'm just not hungry."
"Babe?" JC looks up, concerned. "You're never just not hungry."
"I'll eat later. I just don't feel like eating anything right now."
JC reaches out with a hot hand to touch Lance's equally warm one. "You're sick, too."
"No, I'm fine, really. I'm just a little tired. And hot." He puffs out his shirt. "Maybe I should turn up the air."
JC puts the tray on the floor beside the bed and brushes the hair from Lance's forehead. "Maybe you should lie down for a while."
"Maybe you're right. I was fine before. I'm just a little tired now."
"Or maybe you caught what I have. I felt fine last night, too."
"But who's gonna take care of you if I'm sick?"
"We'll take care of each other."
"This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to make sure you got better."
"I know. I didn't want you to get this. Come on, lie down with me."
Lance complies, reluctantly, his body beginning to ache in places it hadn't hours earlier. "How are you doing now?"
"Pretty good, considering. The headache's gone and that was the worst part."
"That's good," Lance says sleepily. "You should drink some water."
"You, too. You want some aspirin before you go to sleep?"
"Mm hmm. Don't get up. I'll get it."
"It's right here." JC gives some tablets to Lance and swallows some himself as they share a bottle of water. Pulling the blanket over them both, JC curls up against Lance.
"If I have to be sick, at least it's with you."
"Aw, baby. I love you, too."
"JC? Just one thing."
"Yeah?"
"I'm really hot," he groans, and kicks off the covers.