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Joseph, still half-asleep and feeling no need to open his eyes, turned over to grab at Wham where he always lay beside him. It took a few moments for him to realize that Wham’s normally still, solid chest was trembling.
“You okay?” he said drowsily, lifting his head without opening his eyes.
“Fine,” answered Wham, voice rougher than usual. Joseph pushed himself up, using Wham’s chest as leverage before opening his eyes and squinting into the darkness around their bed. The time on the clock indicated that it would be nearing sunset, as Joseph adjusted his life as well to serve the nocturnal Wham, but their heavy curtains kept any daylight out. He fumbled for the switch on the lamp for a moment and grimaced when the harsh light hit his eyes.
“You don’t sound fine,” said Joseph.
“I am,” retorted Wham, still trembling. Joseph leaned forward to place the back of his hand on Wham’s forehead, then pulled back when he touched his always-cool skin.
“Uh, right,” he murmured.
“What was that?” asked Wham.
“I was checking for a fever.”
Wham stared at him expectantly, and Joseph waved his hands as he tried to come up with an explanation.
“When humans get sick sometimes, our body temperature rises to kill off the virus inside,” said Joseph.
“You could control your body temperature all this time and you only use it on viruses?” asked Wham, quirking an eyebrow.
“It’s, like, involuntary, and if it gets too high it can kill us… no, I’m not explaining all this right now,” sighed Joseph. “How do you feel?”
“My body aches,” said Wham.
“Oh, that…. that doesn’t happen to you normally,” said Joseph.
“I’m sure I overworked myself,” grunted Wham. Joseph began rummaging in his bedside table.
“Looking at ancient artifacts?” replied Joseph. “Have you ever been sick before?”
“As a child, obviously,” said Wham. “But that doesn’t count.”
“How does that not count?” asked Joseph.
“All children get sick,” said Wham. “My body is stronger now.”
Joseph held up a bottle of Tylenol in triumph. He dropped it on the bed and frowned.
“I have no idea if any of this is gonna work on you,” said Joseph.
“No need,” said Wham. “I do not get sick.”
Joseph groaned, rubbing his sore eyes.
“Stay here,” said Joseph before turning on his heel. He marched into the kitchen and flung a cabinet door open. He carefully selected a can of chicken soup as he fumbled with the phone in his other hand. He poured the soup into a pot and realized he would have to stretch by the stove to reach the phone with its cord.
The operator put him through to the medical sector of the Speedwagon Foundation.
“Wham is sick,” he said without pleasantries when a doctor picked up.
“Critically?” asked the doctor.
“Uh, no, but I still think he should come in…” said Joseph. He tried to reach the soup with a spoon, waving it at the pot, before giving up.
“What are his symptoms?”
“Muscle aches, he’s trembling, and his voice is really rough,” said Joseph. “And he’s behaving really irrationally.”
“Fever, vomiting, cough, anything like that?” asked the doctor on the other end of the line.
“No, I mean, he doesn’t really have the same kind of stomach…” muttered Joseph.
“It sounds like a cold, Mr. Joestar,” said the doctor.
“But we don’t know!” said Joseph. “What if it gets worse? What if it’s from being around humans?”
“If it gets worse, we’ll send an ambulance,” sighed the doctor. “If it’s from being around humans, do you really want him to be around others?”
“That’s—” stammered Joseph. “You’re useless!”
“Good night, Mr. Joestar,” said the doctor. Joseph heard the line click, but didn’t pay attention as he noticed a large figure in the doorway.
“Bed,” frowned Joseph.
“Why?” asked Wham, stepping into the kitchen.
“You are sick,” growled Joseph, putting emphasis on each word. Wham stared back, obviously unimpressed. Joseph slammed the phone back onto the receiver and stirred the soup before taking it off the stove.
“Sit,” said Joseph. “My granny says getting soup is important when you’re sick. Don’t say you’re not sick, just eat it.”
Wham kept his mouth closed and slid into a kitchen chair. Joseph slid a steaming bowl in front of him and sat down at the other end of the table heavily.
“Careful, it’s hot,” said Joseph.
“This temperature is nothing,” said Wham. Joseph noticed that his words were slightly slurred, and his eyes slid around the room lazily. He placed a single finger in the soup before withdrawing it.
“Well?” said Joseph after a moment of silence.
“It’s too hot,” said Wham. Joseph groaned and began rubbing his temples. He wasn’t a caretaker.
“By the way, I don’t think I could develop an illness from humans,” said Wham.
“Why’s that?”
“Because my physiology is far superior,” said Wham.
“Of course,” said Joseph. “Eat your soup.”
Wham dipped his fingers back into the soup to begin absorbing it. Joseph drummed his fingers on the table, glancing at the phone. Was there a way of contacting Kars or Esidisi for advice?
He shook his head of the idea. He doubted they would maintain a phone in their grand estate, and even if they did, last time they spoke they stared at him with nothing but pure vitriol.
He looked back over at Wham, who was massaging his forehead with one hand.
“Headache?” asked Joseph.
“My horn hurts,” muttered Wham.
“Is it bad?” said Joseph.
“I think, if it were possible for me to get sick, these symptoms would not be cause for worry,” said Wham. His eyes flickered up, showing a flash of clarity in their blue depths. He suddenly stood up, like he had forgotten something.
“What now?” asked Joseph.
“I have work,” said Wham.
“You don’t work on Saturdays,” hissed Joseph. “Go back to bed.”
“I don’t sleep,” said Wham.
“Your body needs rest, so do it or I’m sending a blast of hamon right up your—”
Wham stalked out of the kitchen, walking slowly back into the bedroom. Joseph followed to see him carefully climb under the covers before pulling them up to his chin. Joseph sat on the side of the bed, staring at the discarded bottle of Tylenol in thought.
“Do you still hurt?” asked Joseph.
“Yes.”
“What if I… I don’t know, massaged you a little bit?” said Joseph sheepishly, scratching the beginnings of his beard. Only the top of Wham’s head was visible as he peered over the sheets. He flung the covers back in the next moment and sat up.
“Yeah?” said Joseph.
“Yes.”
“Where is it the worst?” asked Joseph.
“In my back,” said Wham, gingerly flipping his massive body over to lay on his stomach. Accessing his back was no problem, as Wham still stubbornly wore hardly any clothes to bed.
Joseph started hesitantly on the muscles between his shoulder blades, using the heel of his hand to gently push down. He swore he heard Wham sigh, even if the other man doesn’t exactly breathe.
“You’re warm,” Wham muttered into the blankets after a few minutes. Joseph rubbed down his sides, then brought his thumbs up along his spine. He left a light kiss between his shoulder blades to end before flopping down on the mattress beside Wham.
“Feel any better?” asked Joseph. Wham slowly turned his head to the side and grunted, eyes half closed.
“You’re acting so weird,” said Joseph. Wham turned his head so his face pressed into the mattress and gestured with one hand.
“Stay here.”
“‘Course, baby,” whispered Joseph. He tucked himself under the covers and shimmied against Wham, who grasped him tightly against his chest. Joseph chuckled as he stretched up to leave a kiss on Wham’s nose.
The next couple of days were taken up by Joseph occasionally pulling Wham out of bed to have more soup. Wham constantly wanted Joseph to crawl back under the blankets with him, which Joseph agreed to more often than not. He did have work to do, though, and spent every minute of it worrying about Wham.
On Monday, Wham acted completely normal as he rose out of bed.
“I’m going hunting soon,” said Wham. “Human food is of such poor quality. You destroy half the proteins by cooking it.”
“Noted,” said Joseph.
“But… thank you,” said Wham.
“Hm?”
“For taking care of me,” said Wham. “I needed it, but it’s really against my nature to accept help.”
“People always help their partner out in a relationship, you know?” shrugged Joseph. “It’s not dishonorable to acknowledge your limits.”
Wham’s lips tightened, the closest sign he gave to a blush. Joseph smiled and stood on his toes, pulling Wham down to leave a long kiss on his lips.