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With his hands full, Marco tapped the bedroom door open with his knuckles. Inside, a gruff voice mumbled at him to come in, and he did so as quietly as he could. He stopped where he stood once the door was open; inside, Jean was in his bed, wrapped in every piece of bed clothing they owned. A box of tissues lay on the pillow beside his head, with more than a dozen tissues littered haphazardly near the small trash can a few feet away. With a grocery bag in one hand and a small vase of flowers in the other, Marco couldn't cover his mouth quickly enough to stifle his laughter.
Jean peeked out from beneath his mountain of blankets and looked at him with bleary eyes. "Why the flowers?" he said thickly, seemingly still half asleep.
"For you" Marco said simply. Jean let the covers fall away from his face and focused on him a bit more.
"What for, though? Did I miss something?" The look of mild panic on his face made Marco grin.
"They're not for any occasion. You're sick, I was at the store, these looked nice." He held them up and shrugged. They had been dating for a while, but tokens of affection still seemed to make Jean uneasy. Still, Jean was too sick to argue the presence of the flowers any further; he nodded and let his face sink back into his pillow. Marco sat the vase down carefully on a bedside table and took a seat on the edge of the bed beside him. He sat quietly for a moment, looking down at Jean while he dozed. When he ran a hand over the barely exposed skin of his face, he pulled it back with a start.
"Jesus, Jean - you're burning up!" He laid his palm flush against Jean's cheek, his forehead, his chest, all of them filmed with sweat. "Get some of these blankets off."
"No, I'm freezing" Jean protested, curling tighter into the tunnel of linens.
"You're chilling" Marco corrected. He pried the blankets out of his hands and gave them a swift shake, knocking most of them to the floor.
"I wish you would chill" Jean grumbled. Sitting up like he'd just lost a fight, he looked at the room's small window and yawned. "How long have I been in bed?"
"About four hours now. It's after one" Marco said, glancing at his phone. "Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."
"This bed isn't any fun without you in it" Jean pouted, looping his arms lazily around Marco's shoulders. He pressed a few uncoordinated kisses to Marco's neck before Marco pulled back, rolling his eyes as he wriggled away.
"Not while you're sick, Jean."
Jean mumbled something about Marco's 'disregard for his emotional wellbeing', which Marco chose to ignore. He retrieved the bag he'd brought with him and settled back on the bed - this time at Jean's feet - as he rummaged through it.
"I brought you a few things" he said brightly. "They only had a few packages of those cough drops you like, so I just bought all they had. There's some ice cream for your throat, and I got some tea too, so just let me know when you'd like some."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "Lemon?"
"Same brand your mom always buys" Marco said with a smile, and Jean crawled down the bed toward him and kissed his face.
"You're so perfect it's stupid."
Marco laughed. "Thanks." He dropped the bag onto the bed and let Jean lie back into his lap. He cradled Jean's head with one hand, stroking sweat dampened hair from his ears and forehead with the other. That sat that way long enough for Marco to close his eyes and begin to feel sleepy as well. When Jean finally broke the silence, it was with a quiet, relaxed voice.
"You know, I was thinking - we should get married."
Marco looked down at him with a raised eyebrow, trying not to laugh. "Oh really?"
"Yeah. I mean think about it. We already basically live together, and we have everything we need here. We could skip all the register stuff and just do it."
"The registry?"
Jean scoffed. "Yeah, whatever. Who wants to pick out dishes and shit anyway?"
"Maybe I like the idea of picking plates" Marco teased. Jean drew his eyes down and rubbed at the space between them.
"Fine then, we'll get plates. And bowls and cups and those little spoons that you can't even eat with - we can get all of it, if that's what you want. We can have parties or showers or whatever they're called, and invite a bunch of relatives we don't ever talk to, I don't care. Just... marry me, ok?"
The look on his face was one of complete seriousness, if not a bit of anxiety. Marco was caught off guard by his vulnerability; they'd never discussed marriage before, but then again, they'd never actually discussed Marco moving in with Jean. Like many things between them, it had just happened. Jean lie in his lap, chewing his bottom lip and staring up at him with honest eyes and for a moment, Marco was speechless.
"Well? What do you say?" Jean asked softly.
Marco shook himself back together and patted Jean's arm affectionately. "I say your fever must be higher than it was earlier" he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. Jean didn't seem to appreciate being dismissed.
"Marco, I'm trying to talk about important shit with you right now" he huffed. Marco nodded.
"And I'm not sure this is a good time, Jean."
Jean stared at him for a few more seconds, but then his eyes fell along with his face as he made his own interpretation of what Marco was saying. "If you don't want to you could've just said so."
"That's not at all what I mean" Marco said, perhaps too quickly. "I just think maybe on your deathbed isn't the best place to propose." He flashed a wide smile and after a few minutes, Jean finally sighed and let the tension fall away from his expression.
"It's 'cause I don't have a ring, isn't it?"
"Obviously" Marco said sarcastically. He turned himself slightly so that he could see Jean's face better. "No, I just think we should talk about it another time, when you're feeling a little more... like yourself."
"Fine. But I'm not going to change my mind about it" Jean mumbled, but his voice was still defiant and assured.
Marco smirked and shook his head. "You have to find a way to be stubborn in every possible situation, don't you?"
Jean gave a raspy laugh and closed his eyes again, nodding. "If it means getting what I want, yeah."
Marco pressed a kiss to his clammy forehead and then hauled himself from the bed, tossing a discarded blanket back to Jean as he flopped back onto his pillow.
"Speaking of what you want, would you like some lunch?" He asked, standing in the room's doorway. Jean made some kind of wiggly motion under the blanket that Marco assumed was a shrug.
"Can you just make me some soup or something?" he replied between yawns. Marco nodded and made his way to the kitchen.
When he returned with soup and tea, he found Jean sleeping comfortably. He laid the bowl and saucer on the bedside table beside the flowers. Jean's deep, even breathing was a pleasant sound, and one he was thankful for as he snatched one of the blankets from the floor and joined him on the bed. Settling in for a nap, he thought about Jean's words and the determination in his face when he'd been speaking. Maybe he really did mean it. Maybe he actually wanted to get married - maybe they both did. He glanced over at the flowers just before he drifted off to sleep and smiled to himself; maybe it was a special occasion after all.