Chapter Text
The illness had come on out of nowhere.
Or, at least, that was what Techno chose to tell himself. It was easier to convince himself that the exhaustion that had been steadily creeping up on him for the past few days was merely from mediocre sleep, the throbbing in his temples as a result. The constant sheen of sweat on his brow had been harder for him to excuse, despite the fact that he usually ran hot, and so he instead had chosen to brush it off, to ignore it. Everyone felt warm sometimes.
Phil hadn't believed him so easily. In fact, he hadn't believed him at all.
Techno hadn't exactly expected him to. When he had first stumbled down the stairs, hours later than usual and weighed down by the lingering traces of sleep, he had known that he was going to be fussed.
"You're sick," had been the first thing that Phil had said to him after glancing in his direction.
Techno had protested instantly, automatically. Later, he would realize that his attempts were always going to be futile when he could hardly walk in a straight line without tripping over his own two feet but he really didn't want to admit what he knew to be the truth.
Phil hummed in disbelief, his gaze piercing as he glared in Techno's direction. The man clearly wasn't buying a word of it and yet he still kept fighting, trying to force a look of neutrality onto his face when all he wanted to do was close his eyes and give into his tiredness.
But he couldn't give in that easily.
That was until one harsh movement forced him to grip onto the counter for support, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing evenly to prevent his head from swimming.
When Phil had once again pinned him with the accusation that he was, in fact, sick, he had found no strength left in him to deny it.
"So what?" He had scoffed, although he doubted that the words held the bite that he had intended them to. His fingers closed around a glass from the cabinet which he promptly set down on the counter as to not drop. He slowly poured juice into it, clutching the jug tightly as his hands shook slightly.
When he was done, he had intended on placing the jug back in it's rightful place in the fridge but Phil, stubborn as ever, had stopped him. He had attempted to tug it out of Techno's hands and Techno, with the little strength he could muster, had pulled as hard as he could.
Somehow, he had managed to win their game of tug of war as the jug remained in his hands as he yanked but he barely had a moment to process it as his elbow bumped into the glass he had just poured.
It fell to the ground, shattering into a million pieces on the floor as the liquid spilled out.
A moment of suffocating silence had passed between them as they stared at the place where it had fell. Phil had been the first one to pull his gaze away, Techno having a harder time than usual remaining present.
"Go sit down."
Phil's words, spoken in a low tone, cut through the air like a knife. Techno found himself unable to react for a moment, stunned. He wasn't used to that tone being used on him. In fact, it was very rare that Phil ever used it at all.
Wordlessly, he set down the jug on the counter and fled to the living room. With a sigh, he found himself sinking into the couch. He could hear Phil muttering under his breath in the kitchen alongside the sounds of sweeping. The man must be pissed at him for causing such a mess, he noted with dull resignation.
This had been what he had been trying to avoid. He had known that Phil would fuss over him like this if he admitted that he was sick and yet his friend had still managed to pry it out of him. He didn't have the energy to be annoyed since the interaction had managed to sap the majority of his remaining energy.
His head tipped back, resting against the back of the couch, and he allowed himself to rest their as his heavy eyelids fell closed. The sound of distant shuffling entered his ears, too far away to be coming from the kitchen unless his frazzled mind was playing tricks on him. He wouldn't be surprised at this point.
He drifted in the darkness comfortably until footsteps echoed through the hallway, getting louder every second. His eyes snapped open the second Phil reentered the room, taking a moment to properly focus to allow him to make out the features of his friends face.
Phil was holding several bottles of pills in his arms which he quickly deposited on the table, one falling over with a thud as the contents rattled. Phil proceeded to fall into the nearby armchair, looking tired. Maybe even more so than Techno. Heh…
"I brought medicine," he pointed out, one arm gesturing halfheartedly at what looked to be every bottle from their bathroom cabinet now dumped out onto the living room table. Great, he was sure that would be torture to reorganize later. He would put Phil in charge of that, he decided, since he had been the one to pull them all out for no reason.
However, upon hearing him protest once again, Phil snapped wide awake with fire in his gaze.
"Yes, you do."
Techno lifted his head with the intent of staring his friend down. As he did so, his eyes caught on Phil's hand, streaks of crimson staining his skin from what looked to be a poorly patched up wound. Had he...?
Phil, of course, shut him down instantly the second he mentioned it.
"It's just a scratch," the man had said, as if Techno couldn't see the blood. Seriously, he knew he was sick but he wasn't that sick.
"Is it from the glass?" Techno found himself asking, averting his gaze. It was a simple question, one he already knew the answer to. What else could Phil have managed to cut himself on in such a small amount of time? Yet, for some reason, he still found himself asking.
Phil hesitated to answer, and so his words hung in the air for a moment until he finally received the confirmation he had been waiting for.
Guilt flowed through him. From his own stubbornness, Phil had ended up getting injured. It was his fault that his friend was in pain, his and his alone. If he had just let go and handed Phil the jug when he had tried to take it from him then he wouldn't have ended up bleeding because of him. He couldn't change that now, but he could try and fix it.
When Techno suggested that he should bandage the wound- which was common sense, really- Phil had simply waved the hand in his direction while claiming that he had bandaged it. Technically, it was true, but even from this distance Techno could tell that it was shoddily done.
He found himself complaing aloud about it, something that Phil bristled at. It was honestly a little unusual how offended the man seemed but he supposed it likely had something to do with their earlier disagreement. It was very rare that they ever argued so it made sense that they would both become a little uneasy afterwards.
Despite feeling slightly hesitant, he knew that it would be difficult for Phil to fix the injury himself because of the positioning of it and therefore found himself offering to patch him up instead.
"What was that?" Dang it. Techno hunched in on himself, slightly embarrassed at having spoken too quietly to be heard. He repeated his offer, louder this time, satisfied when Phil agreed with him.
"But," Phil rushed to add, and Techno felt his face fall, "if I rebandage it, then you have to take medicine.”
Techno found himself gaping. Was Phil genuinely planning on risking giving himself an infection if Techno refused to take medicine? Techno opened his mouth to scold him and found his gaze once again dropping down to Phil's poorly bandaged hand, dripping with blood. He really did want to get that patched up, especially when the injury was technically Techno's fault.
"Fine," He found himself spitting, unhappy. Phil's demeanor changed in an instant, his posture relaxing and a soft sigh that Techno almost missed escaping his lips.
The man immediately launched into asking Techno what hurt, which he tried to weasel his way out of and was promptly caught. The pain in his temples was the worst, pounding and throbbing behind his skull, and so that had been the most logical answer. Phil had kept pushing however, and it became clear that he knew there was more than just that.
And so, he had told Phil about the exhaustion and the twisting pain in his stomach. Okay, he may have understated the issue ever so slightly but Phil didn't need to know that. It was probable that he wouldn't be taking anything Techno said at face value anyway and would instead be blowing the issues out of proportion inside his own head. Such was clear from the visible concern lining his friends face.
When Phil asked if he had a fever, Techno automatically attempted to shield himself from the hand raised to his face. It was no use, though, and he fell still as the back of Phil's hand- luckily the non wounded one- rested carefully against his forehead.
There was very little use left in fighting when Phil declared that Techno had a fever, and the flu apparently. He watched the man rifle through the various medicines he had set down, finding one that would apparently suffice and shaking a couple of pills out onto his hand. He then disappeared off into the kitchen after claiming he was going to get some water, presumably for Techno to take the pills with.
Techno's head fell back again and he stayed there, waiting.
It felt like only a second had passed before Phil's voice was waking him. Techno blinked his eyes open, squinting at the light and muttering something along the lines of an agreement. The glass and the pills were placed in his hands after a moment, as if Phil was making sure that he would be able to hold them. He wasn't that sick…
He raised the glass to his lips, preparing to take a swig and swallow the pills down until the sweet scent of juice hit his nose. His momentary surprise caused him to blink at the glass for a moment before voicing his thoughts aloud, Phil replying with something about how he thought Techno would prefer this.
Before he could reply to that, though, Phil told him to just drink it, and so he did.
He swallowed down the pills alongside the juice in one go. When Phil reached out to take the near empty glass off him, Techno took the opportunity to seize him by the wrist, prepared to force him to get his hand fixed by whatever means necessary.
Phil stared at his injury for a moment, appearing a little taken aback. Had he not noticed it start to bleed again? He pulled his hand away, Techno's grip loosening. He looked as if he was about to refuse Techno's assistance but all it took was one reminder of their promise for him to sigh and exit the room once more to get bandages.
He kept himself awake through willpower this time, well aware that he would need to be alert enough to properly fix the wound. Luckily it took Phil considerably less time to get the bandages than it had to retrieve any other item. Techno shuffled over to make space for the man to sit beside him.
He took Phil's hand and unwrapped it gingerly, stopping himself from wincing in sympathy. He found himself scolding Phil for not cleaning the wound despite the mans claims that he had. This wound would absolutely need stitches, he could tell.
Phil protested immediately, and so Techno chose to turn his own schemes back on him.
"Hey, how about a deal?" He proposed, a devilish grin tugging at his lips, "You let me stitch your wound and I rest."
It worked and within the next few minutes Phil had left and returned with a needle and thread. Sweat dripped down Techno's face but he was quick to brush off Phil's concern.
He wiped the blood off Phil's hand with a cloth, taking care around the tender areas closer to the wound. And then he struggled with threading the needle, fighting against the shakiness of his hands. Maybe he shouldn't be doing this…
After warning Phil to give him enough time to ready himself, Techno pierced the needle through his skin. Phil hissed in pain but didn't draw his hand away, holding still as Techno went through the familiar motion of stitching up his hand.
Around halfway through, Phil broke the silence that they had fallen into.
"What did you mean?" He asked simply. Techno found his hands falling still. He was certain he knew what Phil was referring to but-
"What are you talking about?" He muttered.
"I mean…when you said you needed to. Help, that is."
Techno froze, his body refusing to move a single muscle as his mind squirmed under the weight of the question. In the end, all he could manage to say was, "I'm sorry."
Upon Phil's confusion, he forced himself to elaborate, his earlier thoughts spilling out. His face flushed as he did so, heat rising to his cheeks somehow noticeable even with his fever. He found himself brushing it off, saying that it wasn't important. When Phil disagreed, he didn't argue.
Techno resumed the stitches.
When he was finished, he tied the final knot tightly despite the way his hands shook. Neither of them would want to repeat his process and for that to be avoided the stitches had to be secure.
He found himself blinking heavily but his gaze snapped to Phil when he pulled his hand away to cradle against his chest. He found himself quickly reminding Phil that he needed to bandage it next, leveling his gaze challengingly to convey that it really was a non negotiable.
Phil let him. Regardless of his shakiness, Techno made quick work of it and didn't so much as utter a word as Phil pulled his hand away again.
Techno blinked, then blinked again. His eyes grew considerably heavier with each passing moment. His muscles relaxed, his head drooping onto his shoulder. A soft blanket was draped over him and he relished in the comfort it provided. A cold hand pressed against his forehead and he leaned slightly into the gentle touch.
A weight settled beside him, the couch dipping. That could only be one person…
"I am sorry, you know," Techno found himself murmuring, "For breaking that glass. And hurting you."
Phil hummed in acknowledgement.
"You didn't hurt me," He softly said, "It was an accident."
Techno took a moment to process that. A part of him wanted to argue, to blame himself even if Phil fought against him. But he was too tired. It could wait.
"Thank you, Phil,” he whispered.
He was asleep before Phil could respond.