Work Text:
Tim used the time to draft some ideas for a bid his firm was making on a new art museum in Los Angeles. He and Diahann had discussed the project thoroughly, and he knew she'd be pleased he managed to get some work done. The rest of his day was spent making a grocery run and putting on chicken noodle soup for dinner.
He couldn't help but think about how the illness could have gone if he hadn't been living in the apartment or if he'd been away on business. Matt was smart enough to know when he needed help, but the pneumonia had come on quickly enough that even Tim had been startled by it.
They ate dinner in bed and watched a sitcom re-run before Matt nodded back off. Tim cleaned up the kitchen and called it an early night himself.
The next day, Matt insisted that Tim go to work, and he agreed as long as Matt promised he would call if anything happened or he felt worse. Tim was quickly drawn into meeting after meeting about the art museum, and the day passed so quickly that he didn't even have time to eat lunch, much less call Matt to make sure he'd had something. The antibiotics made him sick, and it took some guilt-tripping and sad, puppy-dog eyes to get him to even eat soup.
When Tim finally got home, he found Matt lying on the couch, wrapped in a quilt and sleeping. He roused at the sound of the door and gave Tim a tired smile once his eyes were open.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself. Feeling any better?" He grabbed Matt's empty glass and headed into the kitchen.
"Little bit. How was your day?"
"Busy. Diahann's really pushing this museum thing, and she knows one of the guys on the committee so she thinks we can get it if the bid is good." Tim rinsed the glass and poured it full with orange juice. Then he made a couple pieces of toast and lightly buttered them when they popped up.
Matt was sitting up when he got back to the living room and the quilt had fallen away to reveal that he was wearing one of Tim's LeMoyne t-shirts. It was too big on the slim man, but he looked more comfortable than he would be in one of his own tight shirts. As much as Tim appreciated them when Matt was healthy, he was sure they were annoying when it was hard to take a deep breath anyway.
"Hope you don't mind." Matt tugged at the shirt and smiled. "It just looked really comfy this morning on top of the laundry we didn't get put away."
Tim shook his head and handed over the plate of toast. "It looks good on you."
"I look awful," Matt replied, scowling at the toast. "And I'm not really hungry."
"What did you have for lunch?"
"Lunch? That was, uh, few hours ago. I had, um…"
"That's what I thought." Tim didn't lecture him on taking care of himself. Instead, he said, "I think we have strawberry jelly. Do you want some of that?"
Matt sighed. "No, thanks." He bit into the first piece while Tim sat down beside him and turned on the TV. He surfed through their channels while Matt ate and finally settled on SportsCenter.
"We should go to a Yankees game when baseball season starts back up."
Matt nodded and leaned over to rest his head on Tim's shoulder. His temperature was pretty much back to normal, which was so much better than the alternative. "I'd be up for that."
"It's a date." Tim turned his face into Matt's hair and kissed the top of his head. "You want to go to bed?"
"No, not yet. Just want to sit here with you."
"Okay." Tim took his hand and intertwined their fingers. "You can wear my shirt any time you want. Looks better on you."
Matt laughed, but it quickly turned into a nasty cough.
"Whoa. Easy. Take it easy."
"I'm okay." Matt waved his free hand as he leaned back against Tim's shoulder. "Can't wait for this to be over. Who knows what Marsha's doing to the store while I'm gone."
"She's probably rearranged the entire place," Tim teased. It was one of Matt's biggest fears about his business. He loved Marsha, and he was grateful that he could count on her, but he hated leaving the store unsupervised for any period of time. Tim jokingly called him a control freak whenever he talked about it.
Matt snorted and started to push himself off the couch.
Tim's hand hovered under Matt's elbow. He glanced around but didn't see the crutches anywhere. "Where are you going?"
"Bathroom," he murmured and shuffled off down the hall with one hand on the wall for balance. He'd been using the wheelchair since he got home from the hospital, so Tim was glad that he felt well enough to be on his feet. Matt had explained to him once that it took a lot of energy and strength to keep himself upright, with or without the crutches.
Tim headed into the kitchen and started poking around the freezer. Matt had made a vegetarian lasagna the week before that was amazing, and they'd frozen the leftovers in servings for later. This felt like a good night to heat them up. They didn't have any Italian bread, but Tim threw together a small salad for himself, poured two glasses of water, and put it all on a tray so that he could take it out to his boyfriend.
The living room was empty, so he made his way back to the bedroom. Matt was propped up on several pillows, blinking sleepily at a mystery novel.
"Dinner is served." Tim carefully set the tray across Matt's lap.
"This looks good, but I would have been fine with soup."
"You've had soup for days. It's time to eat something a little more substantial to keep your strength up."
"Okay, Mom."
Tim gave him a broad smile and gingerly climbed into bed beside him so he could eat his own dinner. The conversation was light but comfortable. Tim loved sitting with Matt and learning about his love of detective novels, specifically Sherlock Holmes, and the secret to his vegetarian lasagna.
Once they were finished, Tim took the plates and silverware back into the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. He got Matt a fresh glass of water and then headed back into the bedroom to find that his lover had snuggled back under the blankets and looked to be more than halfway toward sleep.
Tim changed into his pajamas and curled himself around Matt.
"Hey," Matt murmured. "Thanks for taking care of me. I know I can be a pain in the ass when I'm sick."
"Don't thank me. I did it because I care, and I know you'd do the same for me. You have, actually."
"I know, but-"
"No buts." Tim propped himself up on his elbow and gently turned Matt's face toward him. There was still a lamp on by Tim's side of the bed so they could see each other clearly. "I don't know how to get you to understand this, but I'm here to stay, Matt. Whether you're sick or well or unhappy or happy or whatever. I'm not going anywhere."
Matt pushed himself up just enough to capture Tim's lips with his own. "I know that, I swear I do. It's just that… you can say that, but until the worst happens, then you don't really know."
He couldn't believe Matt had just said that to him. Tim got up and took several steps away from the bed. He could hear Matt sitting up, but he had to turn his back to try and keep his anger in check. Did Matt think so little of him?
"I'm sorry. That came out wrong." Matt cleared his throat and coughed – proof that he still wasn't well and shouldn't be pushing this conversation. "I just meant that it's a hard promise to keep."
"Don't." Tim held up a hand to silence his boyfriend but didn't turn to face him.
"Tim-"
He shook his head and still refused to turn around. He was hurt that Matt lumped him in with the asshole that had left him while he was still in the hospital, recovering from major trauma sustained in the line of duty. It was a blow that Tim hadn't expected and didn't know what to say or do in the wake of it.
Matt fell silent, but the mattress squeaked and his footfalls on the hardwood weren't all that quiet. Tim was expecting a hand on his back or shoulder, so he was unprepared when Matt wrapped both arms around him from behind and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin on the back of his neck.
They were both quiet for a long stretch of time until Matt whispered, "I'm sorry."
Tim patted his hands and lowered his head. "I know," he replied, "but I wish you would trust me."
"I do. I trust you with so much. I've shown you things and told you things that I could never tell anyone else."
Tim slowly turned inside Matt's embrace until they were chest-to-chest. He gently put his forehead against Matt's and frowned. "I know you have, but then you go and do or say something like this. You had a rough relationship before, and I'm sorry about that, but you can't keep thinking of me like that. I'm not him. I'll never be him."
Taking a deep breath, Matt pulled away just enough to nod. "It's hard because I love you so much. So much more than I loved him. And I don't know what I'd do if you walked away." He raised one hand and pressed his fingers against Tim's lips to keep him from interrupting. "I don't think that you will. I swear to you that I don't think that. But at the same time, I can't let go of that fear. I'm trying. I really am." Tears gathered in his eyes and Tim reached up to brush away the few that fell with his thumbs.
"I believe you," Tim replied softly.
Matt exhaled and swayed on his feet so badly that Tim quickly wrapped his arms around him to keep him steady.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." Matt pulled himself together and stepped back out of Tim's arms. "Just need to sit."
Tim helped him back to the bed and watched as he got back under the covers. After a moment of hesitation, Tim climbed in with him and put his arm across Matt's chest. "Get some rest. We'll talk more when you're feeling better."
Matt squeezed his arm and closed his eyes. "G'night. Love you."
"Love you too."
~End
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