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“He’s done it again.”
Sammy glanced up from his notation. Susie stood over him, arms crossed and brow furrowed in worried irritation. He sighed.
“…I have no idea what you’re talking about. Or who, for that matter.”
“Henry, of course!” She groaned, holding herself tighter, “He’s sick, and he’s still at his desk, working away. I tried to talk to him, but he just kept going on about the tweens he hasn’t wrapped up.”
A flash of worry crossed Sammy’s face, but he quickly squashed it down. “…And what does this have to do with me?”
“For some godforsaken reason, you’re the only one who nags at him that he listens to. Please get him to go home, for his sake and ours.”
The music director pretended to consider this, slowly setting aside his fountain pen. “I suppose I could. If you all can bombard Mr. Drew with concerns about Henry, it will make convincing him to let our only animator go home early a little easier.”
Once Susie left, he started to make the journey upstairs to Henry’s desk. The sniffling tipped him off first. The animator looked the picture of misery once he approached: tissues filled the wastebasket at his side, his face looked flush, and as he turned his attention to the man approaching, his eyes looked glassy. Sammy sighed, checking to make sure it was just them in the front before offering a worried smile. A gentle palm to his forehead felt sticky and hot.
“Mr. Stein, this seems very unsanitary,” he said teasingly. “And you feel warm. You’ve got a fever.”
“’m almost done,” Henry mumbled.
Sammy rolled his eyes, closing the distance between them and gently kissing his temple. “Really? It doesn’t look like you’re making much of anything right now. What is this even supposed to look like?”
Henry stared at the picture Sammy pointed at. Sure, muscle memory was supposed to fill in the blanks for him with how often he drew the main trio, but… every line looked shifted slightly, as if he closed his eyes just as he put them down, making pure scribbles for the average viewer. This was the first time he’d actually focused on his pictures since the fever-induced delirium kicked in.
Sammy took his silence as confirmation. “That’s what I thought. Henry dear, I’m taking you home.”
He ignored the weak, half-mumbled protests as he helped Henry to his feet, gingerly looping an arm around the shorter man’s waist. Joey’s name escaped him once, and he grit his teeth in distaste.
“Don’t you worry about Joey. We’re working on wearing him down. Either he’ll remember some compassion, or he’ll send you home so we’ll stop bothering him. You’re going home regardless.”
He gave him one more gentle kiss, on the cheek this time, before they made the trudge to Joey’s office. The second he spotted another employee, the affection vanished. Sammy regarded his relationship with Henry on a strictly need-to-know basis, and the only thing his coworkers ‘needed to know’ was that they needed to leave him alone. He could aspire to be the next William Haines another day. He glared at the seated man as they entered his office, and Joey only stared back, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“So, there’s the man I keep hearing about. Why are you holding him?”
Sammy scoffed, “Because he’s so out of it, he wouldn’t be able to get here on his own. He needs to go home.”
Joey leaned forward, frowning now as he rested his chin on his folded hands. “Why would he need to go home? He could just take a nap in the infirmary… or possibly your office. I know you love to sneak him in there. Why is that, anyway?”
The barest pink color dusted his cheeks, trying not to think of the ‘other’ reasons why he’d occasionally sneak Henry to his sanctuary, “Why wouldn’t I? You’re too cheap to hire some help for him, so he’s always exhausted. He has to get some sleep occasionally,” he snapped. Joey tensed, jaw clenching, but Sammy just continued, “Besides, here’s my suggestion. Let him go home before he gets the entire studio sick. You can’t make cartoons with no staff.”
“…Fine. One day.” He gave him a stiff nod, then turned to leave. Joey stopped them, “Where do you think you’re going? You’re not sick.”
Sammy glared again, “Do you honestly believe he’ll be able to drive himself home? I will see you tomorrow, 'sir',” he replied, putting as much venom into his title as he could. He could practically feel Joey’s stare burn holes into his back, but his boss’ fury would be tomorrow’s problem. Today he cared far more about his boyfriend.
He tried to keep the drive home quick and painless—Henry even managed to doze off a couple times, weakly protesting as he was removed from the car later.
Home.
The shitty apartment they shared (because rent’s so damn expensive in this city) never felt as big or as welcome as it did right now. He first brought Henry to their bed they shared (because the apartment wouldn’t fit two beds, obviously) to lay down. The animator made a little appreciative noise at being off his feet.
“I should be lecturing you right now,” Sammy said, removing Henry’s shoes and socks.
“’m sorry.”
He rolled his eyes, moving to undo the buttons on his shirt, “No you’re not. You know as well as I do that you’re going to go back to work and do the same thing again. And then we’ll have to go through this same song and dance again-” Sammy froze mid-button, Henry reaching shaky hands to cup his face. He couldn’t help but lean slightly into the touch.
“…I thought you said you weren’t going to lecture me.”
A pause, then indignant laughter. “You little shit!” The music director acted offended, but the smile still stayed on his face as he smacked away his hands. “If you’re strong enough to sass me, you can take your own shirt off!”
Henry laughed. It was a wonderful sound… until he broke into hacking coughs. Sammy stood abruptly to get him some water and some cough syrup.
“I don’t want to take that.”
He raised a brow, wiggling the bottle a bit, “And why not? You need to get some rest, so you’ll recover faster. You won’t get a second day off.”
“But I can’t cuddle you if I’m asleep.”
Red sprung to Sammy’s face, pulling a smile from Henry as the animator held out his arms. “Well… technically you can,” Sammy muttered, carefully joining him. Henry gladly hugged him to his chest, burying his head in the crook of his neck. “If you didn’t, I wouldn’t wake up to you holding me every morning.”
The music director shivered at a gentle kiss pressed to his clavicle. Henry smiled against him, “I just wake up early.”
“Well now you’re going to sleep early. Take it. I’ll stay with you.”
Once Henry downed the medicine, Sammy hummed a gentle tune, peppering his face with little kisses and combing his hands through his hair until he finally dozed off into peaceful slumber. He lay there a bit longer, propped up slightly on one elbow and stroking Henry’s hair with gentle reverence. If only he could look this peaceful all the time.
He savored the silence until sleep decided to claim him too, and he gently curled back into Henry’s arms.