Work Text:
‘My head feels like a drum being played.’ Nick thought as he squeezed his eyes shut against the small streak of light slipping through his curtains. His head hurt but he could still hear the pounding on the door. “Go away.” He rasped out, his words causing a fit of coughing. The noise stopped and he heard the knob turn. The creak of the door and the tread that followed told Nick that it could only be one person. Jay Gatsby, his friend, neighbor, and, if one were to dig deep enough, lover.
“Nick? Old sport, why haven’t you called me or came over? Are you alright?” Jay’s voice carried from the front of the small cottage to the back where Nick lay on the bed. The coughing fit passed he croaked out “Back here.” The rush of footsteps indicated that his lover had gone into worry over him. It made Nick smiled before the itch in his throat made him begin coughing again.
Through watery eyes the young writer saw his lover appearing at the doorway in a rush. “It’s only a cold Jay.” Nick said in trying to sooth his worries and gave the man a tired smile. Jay strode across the room with an air of nervous excitement and sat on the edge of the bed. He had lost his calm the moment he knew Nick was sick and it showed in the way he picked at his clothes.
‘I’ll get a first rate doctor, no, my personal physician over immediately to look you over. And you need rest and a hot drink. I have a bottle of cough syrup at my home.” Jay babbled as he reached out to stroke Nick’s hair back. “I’ll get you a cold cloth then old sport.” He stood and Nick watched him leave the room to retrieve a wet rag. Sighing, he lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes.
‘I must have slept.’ Nick thought when he woke to a cold cloth on his forehead and the bleary form of Jay near his bed. He must have shifted on the bed because Jay looked in his direction and his blue eyes lit up. “Oh you are awake old sport! Wonderful, your headache is gone then?” Nick turned his head experimentally and found that, yes his head felt better.
He nodded and reached up to remove the rag. To his left on the nightstand there was a bottle of cough medicine and a glass of water.
Jay leaned down to help him sit up and spooned out a measure of syrup. Without a word between them, Nick opened his mouth as his lover held the spoon out. He took the foul tasting syrup easily and swallowed. A glass of water was held under his nose and Nick again took the liquid without complaint. Jay smiled and took his former seat on the edge of the bed.
“You didn't have to come over Jay. You’ll get sick you know being around me.” Nick was glad that he had come over to take care of him but there was the underlying worry that Jay would get his cold. The blond at his side laughed and shook his head. “Nonsense, I've never gotten sick in my life. I’m from hearty stock. I spoke with my doctor and he agreed that you have a cold and recommended the very thing I did. Rest and fluids.”
Jay flashed a smile and moved to the other side of the bed, pulling Nick against him despite the sick man’s protests. As he laid his head on the other’s chest, he closed his eyes, body heavy with tiredness and fighting a cold, he drifted off to sleep. Before slumber completely pulled him under, Nick heard Jay whisper “Don’t worry Nick I’ll be here when you wake.” Warm lips dropped a soft kiss on his forehead and a smile curled on the lips of Jay Gatsby.