Work Text:
A boom of thunder interrupted the steady tattoo of rain on the window as Eliza squinted at her laptop screen, the light garishly bright in the otherwise dimly lit living room. The noise and light weren’t doing her headache any favors. Ignoring an email popup, she returned her attention to her excel spreadsheet, and with a quick reference to one of the bank statements littering her coffee table, she entered another set of numbers into their proper column.
She heard the jangle of keys outside her door, followed quickly by the deadbolt turning. Alex pushed the door open and shook out his umbrella as he stepped inside. “It’s really coming down out there,” he commented.
“I noticed,” she replied, voice grumpier than she’d intended. Her hair was still damp and tangled, and the cold rain seemed to have settled into her bones, leaving her shivery even though she’d pulled Alex’s big, cozy Columbia sweatshirt on with her yoga pants.
He must have taken note of her bedraggled stated, because he asked, “Did you get caught in the rain?”
“My umbrella flipped inside out.”
He cooed at her sympathetically as he made his way over, stooping down to where she’d set up shop on the floor between the couch and the coffee table so he could give her kiss. “I’m sorry, honey.”
She grunted, which made him chuckle.
“I’m going to change,” he commented, already stripping off his suit jacket as he stood. His white dress shirt was rumpled, but dry, she observed. While he disappeared down the hallway toward the bedroom, she turned her attention back to her work, digging through the papers to find the next month’s statements.
The padding of his socked feet on the carpet announced his return a few minutes later. She glanced up at him as he turned towards the kitchen, now wearing a long sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants. The refrigerator opened, the light pooling on the kitchen floor, as he asked, “Have you eaten?”
“I’m not hungry.” Her stomach was far too unsettled to even contemplate food. She shuffled the papers again, and swore softly under her breath when she noticed she’d missed an entry. Deleting the last cell with more force than strictly necessary, she added distantly, “There’s some leftover chicken and broccoli in there, though, if you want it.”
“All right.” His frown was audible in his voice. She assumed he’d opted for the leftovers; plastic wrap crinkled as the fridge door closed, and moments later the microwave whirled to life. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
“No.”
He flipped on the light as he came into the living room, making her flinch. The damn headache just wouldn’t ease up. She rubbed her finger over the bridge of her nose in a futile attempt to alleviate the worst of the pain. The TV turned on as he collapsed back onto the couch, and he flipped channels to the news, putting his feet up on the corner of the coffee table.
She twisted around to glare up at him.
“What?” he asked around a mouthful of broccoli.
“Do you mind?” She gestured at the cluttered table. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
His feet returned to the floor and he muted the TV. “Sorry.”
“Mm,” she hummed.
“Freddie’s application?”
“Yeah. The committee meeting for his supplemental scholarship is tomorrow. The poor kid is working two jobs, he’s applied for every grant and scholarship he could find, and he’s still stuck choosing between textbooks and food this month.”
“I know.” He truly did, she knew—he’d lived the same problems himself not so long ago. “How much work do you have left?”
“Four more months of bank statements, expenses, and pay stubs,” she answered.
In other words, an eternity, she’d thought to herself.
Alex left in her to her work, eating quietly with his attention on the muted news coverage as she entered the totals from Freddie’s April pay stubs. After she entered the utility bill for the month, she let herself close her eyes for a stolen moment and rubbed at her temples. It felt like a band was being squeezed around her head, tighter and tighter, until eventually her head was going to pop.
“Honey?” Alex’s voice was soft, and she could feel his concerned gaze without having to look back at him.
“Headache,” she muttered.
Another crack of thunder outside startled her, louder and closer than the others had been. Her eyes flew open just in time to see the lights and TV flicker out, leaving the room black but for the glare of her computer screen, now running on battery.
“No, no, no. Come on.” Her hands slapped at the coffee table in frustration. She couldn’t see the papers properly now, and her computer would die before she finished entering the necessary data. A lump rose in the back of her throat and tears pricked at her eyes as the band around her head squeezed tighter still.
“Hey,” he whispered, lowering himself onto the floor beside her. “It’s all right. I’m sure it’ll turn back on any second.”
She nodded, throat too tight to properly answer. Forcing a deep breath, she tried to calm herself down. Crying certainly wouldn’t help.
“Tension headache?”
She nodded again. He wrapped an arm around her back, and she leaned against him, burying her head in his neck as she climbed almost into his lap. One of his hands went to the back of her neck, massaging gently.
“Take deep breaths, and try to relax your shoulders,” he advised.
Moments later, the lights all popped back on again. The sudden brightness and noise of appliances surging back to life was too much. Her mouth filled with saliva as nausea surged through her. She moaned, and struggled to push herself up against Alex, who was still holding her, trying to comfort her. “I need to get up,” she insisted, heaving herself to her feet.
Their bathroom was still dark, at least. Her wobbly course down the hallway ended in that blessed darkness. She shoved the toilet seat up as she fell onto her knees, grateful for the fluffy rug she’d just washed yesterday. Nothing came up right away, but the lingering, awful feeling in her gut kept her from moving. Finally, she heaved, and groaned. The relief from the nausea hardly made up for the renewed pounding in her skull.
She rested her head against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat.
She didn’t hear Alex come in, but somewhere in the swirl of her misery he must have, because she suddenly felt his hand rub a circle across her lower back. When she startled and looked up at him, he apologized in a gentle whisper. “I brought you some water for when you’re done. Just relax, sweetheart.”
“My head hurts,” she moaned, readjusting over the toilet as another wave of sickness washed over her.
“I know,” he cooed. His fingers smoothed over her damp hair, tugging it back away from her face. He’d grabbed a hair tie off the sink; she felt him twist the tie so her hair was held in a loose, low ponytail. His lips brushed over her temple when he finished, and he resumed massaging her neck.
The nausea died down under his tender ministrations. When she was sure she wouldn’t be sick again, she flushed, pushed away from the toilet, and collapsed against Alex instead. He gathered her in his arms, his legs arranged at an awkward angle so she could rest against him comfortably as possible. Her head rested on his shoulder with her forehead pressed to his neck. She felt impossibly warm and safe in his arms.
“Feeling a little better?” he asked.
She nodded weakly. He let her rest against him, petting her hair gently while she dozed. Eventually, she felt his legs adjust, and realized how uncomfortable he must be. Pulling away slightly, she muttered, “Sorry.”
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. Actually, it reminds me a little of our third date.” She chuckled, then groaned. He pressed a kiss to her head before handing her the water bottle he’d brought. “Here. Rinse and spit.”
She did, grateful to get the disgusting taste out of her mouth. When she was finished, he flushed the toilet again, reached around to lower the toilet lid, then helped her sit down. He took a halting step towards the sink, one of his legs clearly asleep. The mirror slid aside, and she heard him rifling around before he muttered, “Here it is.”
“What?”
“Thermometer,” he explained, pulling off the cap. “I want to check your temperature.”
“I don’t have a fever.”
“Humor me,” he pressed. With a sigh, she took the thin white stick and popped it under her tongue. He kissed the crown of her head. “Thank you.”
He knelt down and opened the cabinet under the sink while she sat with the thermometer. Apparently finding what he’d been searching for, he hoisted himself back up, sat on the edge of the tub, and reached over to turn the nobs. As water rushed into the tub, he poured out a measured amount from the bottle he’d found. The sweet scent of coconut rose with the steam. He was running her a bubble bath, she realized.
The harsh beeping of the thermometer made her wince. Alex grabbed it quickly, pressing the button to make the noise stop. He held it up towards the light from the hallway and nodded. “No fever.”
“Told you.”
He laughed. “I know, I know. You’re always right.” He pulled a towel out of the linen closet and arranged it at the head of the tub, his hand skimming the water to check the temperature. “Hop in when its ready. The hot water will help your muscles relax. You’ll feel a world better after, trust me.”
When he leaned down to kiss her forehead again, she caught his face in her hands. “You’re so amazing.”
“Just trying to keep up with you,” he retorted. They shared a smile. “You need any help?”
“No,” she said, looking over at the rapidly filling tub. “I think I can manage now.”
“Ok, honey.”
The door tapped closed behind him, and she slowly began to undress after switching the nightlight on. When she slipped into the tub, she moaned with relief. The hot water really did do wonders at loosening her tense, aching muscles. Pillowing her head against the towel he’d left for her, she sank deeper into the water and let herself relax.
“Feeling any better?” Alex asked when she made her way back to the living room. He’d dimmed the lights, she noted with appreciation, with only the reading lamp by his side of the couch on so he could look at his book.
“A little,” she confirmed. “My head’s still achy, but the bath helped a lot. Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said. “Why don’t you go lie down? Sleep is the best cure.”
“I have to finish,” she argued. “I don’t have much left to do.”
“Why don’t you let me help? Just give me some direction, and then you can go get some rest.” He slipped down from the couch to sit in front her laptop.
Her smile turned sappy at the sweet gesture as she laid down on the couch behind him. He’d worked all day, too; that he was willing to give up his evening putting together a spreadsheet for one of her kids made her love him even more.
Squinting, she forced herself to look over the last few rows. “Fill in the amounts of each pay stub, then the necessary expenses for the month. Add an asterisk for his summer income, though. He won’t keep making that once classes start again.”
“Asterisk. Got it.” He twisted around for a kiss. “Now go get some rest.”
“Do you know how much I love you?” she whispered.
“A lot, I hope,” he teased.
“More than anything.”
“Good thing we’re married, then.”
“Mm,” she sighed, cuddling into the warm spot he’d vacated and letting her eyelids drift shut. She was still snug in his oversized Columbia sweatshirt, and at last felt warm and comfortable. “Good thing.”
Just as she began to drift off, she felt his fingers stroking tenderly through her hair, and his soft, low voice whispered close to her ear, “You are the light of my life.”
She gave him a sleepy smile, and slept.