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Ketterdam, six months after everything including the fake-but-disturbing-plague, was still on edge. No one spoke the word plague, as if it alone could infect them. So when Wylan woke up with a sore throat, Jesper freaked out.
"It's–" he paused to clear his throat, propping up on his elbows in bed, "probably nothing."
"Are you sure you're sick?" Jesper was sitting cross legged beside him, the duvet wrapped around his bare shoulders. Wylan shrugged, laying his head back down; he felt a migraine coming on but he didn't say so. After a moment, the smallest smirk came to Jesper's mouth.
"Are you sure it's not from... well... you know...?"
Wylan tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at him like he didn't understand. For all of Jesper's flirting and supposed conquests before him, he could be so awkward when talking about sex sometimes. Jesper sighed animatedly.
"Deep throating?" He said quickly. Wylan burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.
"You are the biggest dork I have ever met, Jesper Fahey. No, it's not from that."
He could feel the cold coming on, the way it had hurt to laugh a moment ago, like he'd swallowed a rock. He closed his eyes and reached around blindly for Jesper's hand. He smiled to himself and tried to wiggle into a more comfortable position before snapping his eyes open to look up.
"Babe, come cuddle." He said in a much too whiny voice. Jesper leaned over him to press a soft kiss to his forehead before he climbed out of bed.
"Can't, love. Kaz needs a favor. Would you like anything from town while I'm out?"
"Not particularly. Just be careful and hurry back." He said before throwing the covers over his head dramatically. Jesper tugged on his boots and stood in the doorway another moment to admire the scene. The large window above their bed let the spring sunlight filter onto the bed that was a mix of neutral colors. Wylan's face was covered but his legs were peeking out. Even though he needed to go; to get back and take care of him, he paused to revel in how unbelievably happy he was.
-
After Jesper left, Wylan did nothing but toss and turn in bed. He was the kind of sick where he couldn't get comfortable no matter what he did. Finally, he flopped onto his back, frustrated. He bent over the side of the bed to pull his socks on - they were very warm and he didn't want to walk on the cold floor. He drug his feet over to the wardrobe on the far wall that held Jesper's things.
He needed a shirt. Jesper's shirt preferably, the ones he wore to bed (when he bothered) and on lazy days at home. They stretched over the hard planes of his chest and shoulders which admittedly, lead to the lazy days spent in bed. Except the only saintsforsaken things he could find are suits. He went through all the ones hanging up, a mixture of plaids and patterns that made his head ache even more. Wylan sighed, bottom lip wobbling stupidly. He got so emotional when he was sick, he despised it.
He was just frustrated. Obviously Jesper has other clothes, but where the hell were they? He shut the wardrobe and fumbled towards the bed hopeful that sleep will cure him. That's when the door opened, and he came in.
"Jes," Wylan breathed, and felt his face heat at how much he missed him. It was true that Jesper had been gone longer than intended - almost five hours. They met at the foot of the bed and Jesper wrapped him in the gentlest hug he'd ever experienced. The paper bag he was holding crinkled against Wylan's back as he held him. He smiled because he knew it held bagels from the bakery in West Stave, his favorite. Wylan loved the height difference between them, loved being held like this so his cheek was against Jesper's chest as they embraced. He could hear his racing heartbeat in his ear. Jesper pressed a kiss to the top of his head easily, but didn't try to let go until Wylan wanted to.
Wylan breathed him in, turning to nuzzle his nose over Jesper's heart. Then he pulled back suddenly, still wrapped up in him. He drug his hands down to the hem of the back of Jesper's shirt and tugged up.
"Take this off."
"Kinky." Jesper smirked, even though he didn't know what was happening, he'd never miss a joke opportunity like that. He stripped the shirt over his head quickly and held it between them. Wylan took in the dark expanses of Jesper's flawless skin for a moment, feeling lightheaded and extremely lucky. Then he snapped back to the task at hand; stripping his own itchy tee off. Jesper made an appreciative noise.
Wylan tugged Jesper's shirt on and drowned in it. The shirt came down to the elbows, but it went even farther on Wylan. The hem itself was inches too long and the head hole was wider and hung low, exposing his collarbones.
"Saints," Jesper nearly panted. Wylan felt a blush creep onto his cheeks. He already felt so much better. The shirt was so soft, he wanted to curl into a ball and never take it off.
"Thank you," Wylan said finally, for the shirt, for the bagels he was stealing out of his hands now.
"Hm?" Jesper's eyes were glued to his jutting collarbones. A lingering hickey was the perfect shade of pink. He looked delectable. "Oh yeah."
Wylan grinned harder, his headache ebbing. He hooked a few fingers in the waistband of Jesper's skinny jeans and pulled him to the bed. They both tumbled onto it in a fit of stupidly happy grins. Wylan snuggled closer, his eyes more blue than the springtime sky.
"Hold me," he said softly. Jesper obliged eagerly, slinging a long leg over Wylan's and wrapped him in his arms. Wylan snuggled into him, tangling every part of them he could. Jesper took his hand and Wylan brought it to his mouth to kiss.
"I love you so much, Jes." He said into his neck. He felt himself flushing, but really, when was he not around Jesper? His voice was already cracking from whatever cold he'd caught because he'd been talking too much instead of preserving it.
"I love you too." Jesper said, squeezing him slightly. "But, what about the bagels?"
Wylan almost snorted. "We'll have them later."