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"I do not have the patience for this shit! I hate flu!"
It was difficult, being that his face was leaking slime like it was a fucking Nickelodeon's Kid's Choice Awards, but Sal managed a hoarse laugh. It wasn't funny, not really, but it was better to laugh than to pull Travis any further down.
"Sorry, Travis. I wish I could be more help…" A sneeze tore through him abruptly, making a mess too disgusting to detail. Luckily, Travis was blind to it, his eyes covered by his bitch is sleeping eyemask. "But I think I'd just end up covering you with my goo."
"Not tonight, angel. I have a headache."
This laugh was much more genuine, although it did more rattling through his chest than spreading joyful sounds. "That's gross, babe. Don't go there right now."
Despite his poor health, Travis managed a smirk. He looked cute over on his bed, his eyemask on, his sheets pulled up to his chin. "You know I'm funny," he said.
And Sal did. Still, he couldn't be encouraging Travis' laughter right then, as odd as it was to think that. Usually he was doing everything he could to tickle his partner's funny bone, but Travis needed to be keeping food down at the moment, which meant making sure his tummy was treated gently.
Speaking of… "Hey, do you want soup?" It had been a while since they'd eaten. Probably. Time started to pass strangely when Sal was ill, even if it was just a bad cold.
Travis' smirk fell into a grimace, a jagged line of pouty lip. "Maybe later. Ugh, just the thought makes me wanna gag."
"Good call. I'm gonna put this blanket in the dirty linens pile and grab a bite. I'll bring you back crackers for when you get munchy."
When Sal stood from the bed, he had to grab hold of the dirty blanket to keep from keeling over. Head rush made the floor feel much more magnetic than usual. Thankfully, it passed soon, giving him the opportunity to blow what was left of his nose into the already-soiled blanket. It made an odd sound, but that was to be expected.
He heard Travis give a tiny giggle.
"You're the sexiest, coolest guy on the planet," he said. And he sounded like he meant it. "How do you do it?"
"I learned it from watching you."
His smile was back, toothy and adorable. "Go get your soup, Sally Face."
"On my way."
He wanted to keep asking Travis do you need more meds?, do you want Gatorade?, can I bring you a book?, but he knew it would only make Travis irritated. One does not simply fuss over Travis! Sal had to be a little more assertive in his care.
He'd bring Travis back a Gatorade whether he liked it or not. Yellow flavor, because that was his favorite.
Yes, good plan. Sal stood properly, careful to check his balance before taking the commitment of walking. A very good plan indeed.
His walk to the kitchen was uneventful. So was preparing vegetarian vegetable soup. So was grabbing two Gatorades and Travis' favorite book (just in case). So was bringing the soup, Gatorades, and a small pack of crackers back to the bedroom.
So was, apparently, his other chosen objective.
"Aw, damn it." He stared at the snotty blanket on his bed, the very one he'd meant to take into the other room. "These meds are messing up my head. As if I need the assistance."
No response from Travis. Turning to his boyfriend, Sal found himself surprised. The man had actually fallen asleep.
That was good. Travis struggled to fall asleep on a good day, let alone when he was feeling vulnerable. And probably a little lonesome. Gizmo had done the kind thing of curling up on Travis' bed, nestled towards his feet to avoid being in the way when Travis had to hurl, but his bed was still Sal-less.
Their friends sometimes teased them for having separate beds, but it was really in the best interest of things. When they were angry, they could still have their own space. When they were happy, they could cuddle on their narrower beds, curling up tighter and warmer than if the bed were large.
Sure, their room looked hilariously like a really lived-in hotel room, but it was worth it. No one got kicked to the couch during an argument and no one got kicked in the crotch when Sal's sneeze had his whole body convulsing.
Well, mostly they were in separate beds today to try to avoid contaminating the other (given Sal's cold and Travis' stomach bug), but that seemed a bit futile after so long being in the same room, preparing each others baths and food…
Mostly, Sal thought it was that Travis just liked his own space. He'd never had the space or freedom before moving out of his father's house, so he was enjoying it now in the small ways. He was feverish, light-headed, achey, and funny-tummied, and he could still sleep in his own bed. No way did Travis want to be covered in Sal's snot, especially not when he was feeling weak and nervous and icky.
Sighing, Sal put his soup on the corner table between their beds, putting the book he'd tucked under his arm on top of his gaming magazine. The gatorades were next, pulled out of the waistband of his pants, and then the crackers which had been in his hand.
He grudgingly took the blanket out of the room and came back with a much cleaner one.
Getting cozy, he already felt better. He couldn't shower as often as he'd like, since the water made his scars react in a way that irritated him, but he could take solace in the small things. The new blanket was refreshing and so was the Gatorade. Soon, he'd ask for Travis' help in wetting his hair. That would help too, he figured. He could trick himself into feeling like he'd showered.
Maybe if he just took a bath and kept his head above the water… But he feels so weak. Maybe he could ask Travis to help him scrub all the sweat and germs off.
It didn't matter in the moment, he supposed. He'd decide after soup and a nap. Once Travis woke up, he'd do his best to get his man healthy, but for now…
For now, he'd take care of his body and hope it took care of him.