Work Text:
The grocery store was crowded. Obi-Wan always hated that, even in ordinary times. He’d never been one for crowded rooms, but when Cody came with him they made it fun, laughing down the aisles and sneaking sweets into the basket when the other wasn’t looking.
Now though, he had to elbow his way down the liquor aisle alone.
He was nearly finished now–after a long week of work for the both of them, he just wanted to grab a bottle of wine to share when the day was over. Obi-Wan’s Fridays were short–with his last class ending at 11 o’clock and his office hours only until 1, he was free to leave the university by early afternoon. So he’d filled the basket with fixings for a nice dinner, mentally running through the recipe Cody had taught him years ago.
And then, someone coughed.
It shouldn’t have fazed him. And, a year ago, it wouldn’t have. But now, with a jolt, Obi-Wan instinctively pulled his mask further up his nose, even though it was already in place.
The man passed.
He probably wasn’t sick, right? And he was wearing a mask. A cloth one, but still. It was fine. He was fine. With a shallow breath, the air felt thick through his own mask. He didn’t dare inhale deeper.
Obi-Wan turned his wedding ring once around his finger.
Out in the parking lot, he opened the car door with his sleeve. Took great care not to touch anything until he could grab the bottle of hand sanitizer between the seats, and squeeze it into his palm. He took off his mask, but part of him wanted to throw it out the window.
His hands still felt unclean.
The radio blasted as he started the car, and the voice of a newscaster proclaimed the latest disaster factoid– positive cases at an all time high. Hospitals are overcrowded, the number of deaths only continues to–
Obi-Wan turned it off. Turned his wedding ring again, before putting the car in reverse.
On the way home, he tried to distract himself. He ran through his lesson plans in his head, trying to remember which seminars he was meant to give next week. Doing so usually rejuvenated him–he was one of those lucky people whose passion also happened to be his occupation, and even his worst day at the university was still pretty damn good. But recently he’d lost so much sleep he wasn’t certain his students would say the same–if he delivered his lectures quite as fervently, or scored papers with quite as much mirth.
At the red light, he turned his wedding ring once. Twice.
He only stopped when the light turned.
Cody still worked from home. Most of his company did now, though they were given the option to use the office if necessary. And sometimes, Cody did–he could program the software just fine from home, but nothing could replace access to the test hardware, he said. But more often than not, Obi-Wan came home to the sound of a pattering keyboard from the office, and a holler of “hello, love!” from behind the door.
Today, though, his husband was in a meeting–Obi-Wan could hear the mechanical voices chattering through the laptop speaker. That was just as well–then he wouldn’t hear Obi-Wan moving about in the kitchen, and spoil the surprise.
Obi-Wan washed his hands and turned on the stove, and unpacked the vegetables he’d gotten from the store. Between them, Cody was the better cook. But Obi-Wan could fake his way through it, when he tried. He cleaned out the saucepan, and the veggies too, before starting to cut the pieces of what he hoped would be stir-fry.
Except–Obi-Wan lowered the cutting knife. He felt… warm . He didn’t have a fever, right? He couldn’t. He’d felt fine all day.
But he knew the couple who lived upstairs had been sick last week. Was it possible their air came through their vents? Surely they all shared the same recycled air. He needed to open a window. He needed to–he pushed the cutting board away. He needed to take his temperature.
But the thermometer wasn’t in the medicine cabinet, or under the sink. Where could it be? Had Cody taken it? He didn’t know why he would, unless–god, unless Cody was sick too. He turned his wedding ring. No, that couldn’t be. He was being illogical. He needed to–
Shit. The stove.
On his way back to the kitchen, Obi-Wan opened a window.
And turned his wedding ring.
The stove was fine. But the vegetables could still use a minute or two to defrost, and so Obi-Wan reached for his work laptop–better to get it out of the way now, before Cody was done work. He was giving an exam on Monday, and should make sure he didn’t have any emails from students, any last minute questions…
But in the brief blackness of the screen before it powered on, Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of his own face. He looked…pale. Sickly, almost. Obi-Wan put a hand to his chest, suddenly acutely aware of the tightness there. What if he’d brought something home? Oh, and this laptop was in the room with all those students, and they all walked past it on the way to and from the door–it must be contaminated. He turned his wedding ring, turned his wedding ring.
And had he washed his hands before he touched dinner? He couldn’t remember. The heat of the stove would kill the germs, though. But what if it didn’t? What if he turned his wedding ring turned his wedding ring what if it didn’t and Cody got sick?
What if he hurt Cody?
He opened another window.
I can’t use this chicken. Obi-Wan pushed the contaminated meat aside. Maybe there’s some more in here– He took it all out of the fridge. Then paused to wash his hands again, just to be sure. Turned his wedding ring. Just to be sure. Turn your wedding ring.
No. The air was filled with billions of particles–nitrogen, oxygen. Carbon dioxide, hydrogen, neon even. And then there were the little bits of dust in the air, blown about by the movement of air through the room, and skin particles from someone else’s face, and air from someone else’s mouth that was now in yours and all the germs that came with it.
They’re not all bad germs, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Some are good. You couldn’t survive in a vacuum. You can’t survive this either. He turned his wedding ring. The air he was breathing was just normal air it’s contaminated it’s not. And Cody is breathing it too. Cody was fine. You brought this bad air home to him, and now it’s here, swimming through your home and in your bed and in your refrigerator and in this chicken on the stove. The chicken’s fine. It isn’t . It’s fine.
And then he was leaning back against the kitchen counter and turning his wedding ring, turning his wedding ring, because everything was in this air, everything, the man from the grocery store and his students’ inhales before they answered and their exhales as they left the room, the cough of his office partner on the other side of the desk and the air from the couple upstairs, it was contaminated it was contaminated it was all contaminated and the thoughts were just as bad. The thoughts, that swirled around his head like the air– turn your wedding ring.
Turn your wedding ring.
Turn your wedding ring.
Turn your wedding ring.
Just go back to cooking the chicken. It’s contaminated. No it isn’t, and the stove’s been on too long it’s contaminated you’re killing Cody it’s contaminated you brought it all here turn your wedding ring this poison air this poison air no, it isn’t. It isn’t turn your wedding ring Cody is fine. He isn’t. He is. He isn’t. He’s going to die he won’t he will he will he will.
Distantly, Obi-Wan heard the door open. The meeting voices were gone.
Cody’s voice: “Obi-Wan?”
He will.
Cody was coming toward him. Obi-Wan was turning his wedding ring, turning it, turning it, and then–
“My love.”
The words, so soft. And then two warm hands grabbed his and held them, held them still.
They ended up on the couch. Cody had turned off the stove, he was pretty sure, and led him there slowly. Lowered him down onto the cushions, and held onto both of his hands even as they shook and shook and shook and–
“Hey,” Cody whispered. “Can you look at me?”
Obi-Wan did. His vision was blurry. Eyes damp.
“We’re going to ride this out together,” Cody continued. “And I’m gonna hold your hands the whole time. Okay?”
Obi-Wan was pretty sure he nodded. He was breathing too fast. Inhaling contaminated air at double the rate. His chest hurt too–pretty sure that was a symptom–
“You shouldn’t be here,” Obi-Wan said suddenly, the realization hitting him. “I feel–I don’t want to…hurt you.”
“You’re not going to hurt me.” Cody had one arm around him now, still holding tight to his hands. He pulled Obi-Wan closer. “I’m okay. And so are you.”
We are. You’re not. We are.
Losing your mind, Obi-Wan thought mildly—the thought more speaking itself into existence than authored by him—was more than anything, a frustrating experience. An embarrassing one. A logical person knows that none of the illogical thoughts are true. And Obi-Wan liked to think of himself as a logical person.
But it wasn’t the logical person who was at the helm, no, there was another one there. Some other voice calling the shots. And Obi-Wan wasn’t strong enough or logical enough or something enough to knock it from its pedestal and retake the controls.
“There you are,” Cody was whispering. Rocking him a little now, gently. “You’re alright.”
But Cody was. Or, at least, he could be there, until Obi-Wan took the helm again himself.
Cody cooked dinner, when it was over. He wrapped Obi-Wan in a blanket and left him to curl up on the couch, and soon enough he was returning with two bowls of stir-fry and one steaming cup of tea.
Cody set his own bowl down on the table. Pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s head, gently combed back his hair with light fingers. Then he sunk down into the couch beside him, folding him under an arm. Obi-Wan tucked his head down onto his shoulder.
“Thank you for dinner,” Cody said softly.
Obi-Wan gave a quiet scoff. “You're the one who made it. I never got further than turning on the stove.”
Cody didn't laugh—his expression was pensive. Just pulled Obi-Wan in closer, pressed another kiss in his hair.
They’d really talk tomorrow–all the things that needed to be said, about going back to the doctor and getting back on medication, about where to go from there. He could feel Cody thinking it–of the concern that lingered beneath his frown, and the need to problem-solve even closer to the surface. But there would be time. Tomorrow.
Obi-Wan turned his wedding ring, once. Cody reached for it, brought that same hand to his lips.
“You’re brave,” he whispered.
And it didn’t feel true. But maybe that was all courage was–to keep breathing. Even when you thought the air would poison you.
Obi-Wan felt Cody’s chest rising and falling beneath him, matched his own breath to it and closed his eyes. Felt him murmur I love you into his hair with that very same breath, of air that was pure and clear.