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When Pat finally, finally gets home, he collapses on the bottom step of the staircase, having to work up the energy to get his shoes off. His nose and sinuses throb with congestion and he sniffs, letting out a long sigh. In the weekend-long camping trip with his Scouts, he must have caught a cold or the flu from one of the kids, and now he feels utterly wretched.
“Is that you, Pat?”
Pat jumps when Julian’s voice echoes down the staircase; he turns his head and stares up at him. Even from all the way down here, Pat can see a definite flush to Julian’s face, and he couldn’t miss the hoarseness to Julian’s voice.
Of course; how could he forget! This weekend, Julian was out too, doing some party conference thing that goes way over Pat’s head. He must have done a lot of speaking, so that explains his hoarse voice. But why does he look red?
Pat drags himself to his feet, trying his hardest not to stumble, and grins. “Hey, Julian!”
His partner comes thumping down the stairs, and Pat spots the tiniest change in Julian’s movements, how he seems slower, more hesitant. His cheeks really are flushed, and rather clammy too.
“I thought you’d get back first,” Julian says.
“Yeah, got stuck in traffic.” He needs to sniff, but Pat suppresses it. Julian must be sick, and he doesn’t want to worry his partner by letting on how crappy he feels. “But I’m back now. How’ve you been?”
Pat doesn’t lean in for a kiss, and isn’t surprised when Julian doesn’t either. Even though they’re both already sick, his partner must be thinking the same thing as him. He can just imagine Julian’s thoughts right now:
Oh shit, Pat’s ill too. I can’t let him know I feel sick too, or the ill idiot will worry about me when he needs to be resting.
It’s kind of ridiculous, but adorable too, Pat thinks. They’re total opposites, but at times like this, they’re acting just the same: running on a protective impulse to be the strong one and not make the other feel worse.
He doesn’t want to just order Julian straight to bed-rest; that would just make Julian deny he feels unwell. Perhaps he can try and take the load off for Julian without letting on he knows Julian feels sick.
“Want a cuppa?” Pat asks.
“Nah, I’ll do it. You must be knackered.”
“No, Julian, I insist,” he says.
Julian snorts, and action that turns into a hacking cough. Pat doesn’t mention it, simply heading towards the kitchen.
“You stubborn bastard,” Julian says.
Pat smiles, but stumbles on unsteady legs, nearly falling.
“Careful!” Julian cries, grabbing him, and Pat feels a burning fever. “Go sit on the sofa, Pat. I’ll make the tea.”
“I’m making the next one,” Pat says.
This arrangement probably isn’t going to work, but… it’s rather fun, as well as helping care for each other without admitting how they feel.