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The werewolf’s rigid body exhumed heat from all angles as Hyde attempted to make him comfortable in the thin sheets. Lips were parted dryly, and small, quiet breaths passed through the air between them as he prepared the bedside table with things he would need. He had never been much of a caregiver— he didn’t even bother to care for himself when he was sick, most of the time— but he watched Gala work himself to the bone for most of the time they had known each other. Beyond that, he knew Gala was just that type of person, even before he knew him. Drawing in a sigh, he wrang the cloth over the bowl of cool water, moving his hand to meet the man’s forehead.
“You push yourself too hard, Gala.” Hyde drew the cool compress to his forehead, wiping beads of sweat from along his browline, “You can rest now.”
His eyelids fluttered open slowly, warmth meeting his cheeks as his lips parted dryly, “Hyde,” The werewolf murmured softly, bringing himself to a raised position on his bed, which Gala quickly caught and pressed his arms down further.
“Lie down,” He muttered, eyes narrowing, “That’s an order.”
Gala nodded, winded as he pressed himself back into the coolness of the sheets, “What happened?” He murmured softly, eyes blinking to meet Hyde’s cautious gaze.
“You passed out at work,” He responded, continuing to dab the cold compress against the side of his face, “Idiot. You shouldn’t take other shifts when you feel unwell. They can function without you, you know.”
“Guilty,” He murmured breathlessly, “I’ve been there so long. I need to— to set a good example for others.” Sweat beaded along his hairline as fast as Hyde could collect it, clicking his tongue in a tinge of annoyance. His chest reared its ugly head as a series of wet coughs erupted from his mouth, which Gala attempted to catch into his hand. Biting back the worst of the noise, he inhaled sharply, trying not to meet Hyde’s worried gaze.
“Take these,” Hyde dropped the compress on the bedside table and repositioned himself towards a bottle of NSAIDs. He popped the tab and shook two tiny red pills into his palm and thrust them toward Gala, before reaching over to the table and extracting the remnants of a bottle of water. “Take them. Your fever is probably way too high. I should check it,” He murmured to himself as Gala nodded, shakily taking the pills from his hand and throwing them back with the assistance of the water.
Hyde extracted himself from the chair and escaped into the bathroom, rummaging further with the cupboards. He didn’t return until he had a thermometer in hand, which he slipped a thin plastic cover onto. Approaching the bedside, Hyde placed the thermometer between Gala’s lips, which he adjusted under his tongue.
The pair sat in silence for a few moments until the thermometer beeped, which signaled Hyde to ascertain the digital numbers.
“106.4. That’s not good for werewolves, is it?” Hyde muttered, discarding the plastic slip into the trash bin.
“Werewolves run hot,” Gala stated quietly, “It is a fever, but,” His voice trailed off for a moment, eyes blinking lazily, “Sorry.”
Hyde pressed the compress back to his cheek, swiping it gently, “Sleep. I know you’re tired,” He murmured, “I’ll be here when you wake up.” He pressed a pale hand to the side of his face, the coolness of his own skin beginning to feel the heat radiating off of Gala’s.
“Mhm,” Gala sighed, sinking further into the pillow that cradled his head, “Feels good.”
He was blinking for another few seconds before his breath grew less labored and steady. The rise and fall of his chest comforted Hyde as he watched the man exhale deeply, falling further into a comfortable slumber. He absentmindedly cradled into Hyde’s palm, enveloping himself in the cool touch of his skin. Even without a fever, Gala was like a furnace, but he felt uncomfortably warm for Hyde in this state. Continuing to wring the compress and wipe the remnants of sweat from his sleeping body, Hyde whispered to Gala, just beyond earshot of any living being.
“Look what you’ve done to me,” he murmured breathlessly. He cupped his hands around the man’s face, comforting the heat of his body with the juxtaposition of his own temperature, “Never would have caught me dead in a situation like this before.”
Hyde drew his hands away from Gala’s face and pondered the moment, his resting face peacefully remaining unmoved. He had never seen Gala sick before— injured, barely, but this much was unusual for the man. He had been running himself ragged lately, that much he knew— between the shelter and covering shifts at the hospital, he had very little time to himself. Time to recuperate, to rest, to even eat, or sleep.
He peeled himself away from Gala’s side long enough to meander in the kitchen, staring at mostly empty cupboards. Hyde wasn’t expecting to host a sick friend, he rarely ate himself, so it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t have any groceries— but Gala wasn’t like him. He needed to eat. He remembered being sick back when he was still mortal— but not enough to recall what they did back then.
Warm bone broth— vegetable stock— those were things he remembered. Warm herbal teas or black teas that were splashed with milk to ease the throat and stay easy on the stomach. Herbs he didn’t recall, medicine that had since been disproved as ineffective or enhanced by the wonders of modern medicine.
He flipped open the phone book and stared down the list of restaurants, looking for anything that might satiate a sick person’s need for soup.
—
Gala woke to his stomach churning. He steadied himself against the bedside table and heaved, holding his hand against his mouth as his eyes desperately searched for a waste bin. His hands met the edges of the plastic bin as the taste of bile met his tongue, expelling stomach acid and bitter feelings into the trash can. His head swam with the warmth of his body and his eyes refused to remain in focus as he spat into the trash can.
Hands met his trembling back and took the bin from him, holding it before his face as he erupted into a fit of coughs, still wet from the previous bile in his throat.
“You look awful, Gala.” Hyde didn’t sugarcoat anything, but that much, Gala was aware of. He knew his hair was sweaty and sticking to his face, that his voice was ragged and tired, and that his skin looked far paler than usual, only flushed with the heat of the fever. He nodded, slowly, but didn’t say a word as he pulled himself from the trash can, dizzily anchoring himself back to the bed, the left side of his face pressed against the mattress.
For once, Gala felt like crying. His breath felt too hot, and his body felt too heavy to belong to himself— despite remaining as still as he could, his head still felt like it was swimming with responsibility— What if they couldn’t find anyone to cover the shift? What if a patient’s family needs help and no one is there to advocate for them? What if someone else had to cover for him, someone who worked harder than he did and deserved a break while he was stuck here doing nothing? What if he was taking time away from Hyde’s job? If Hyde had something special or fun planned and he had completely ruined it?
His chest heaved with uncertainty as he felt hot tears escape from his eyes and cascade over the bridge of his nose, eventually meeting the thin sheets of Hyde’s bed. A quiet, uncertain sound escaped Hyde’s lips as Gala felt cold fingers wipe away the trail of tears over his nose.
“I’m sorry, Gala— I didn’t mean that in a sense to hurt you,” He retraced his steps in his mind, gathering what he had said previously, “ Fuck . I know you feel awful. I don’t know what to do, I’ve never seen you like this— what’s wrong?” Words fell from Hyde’s mouth as quickly as he could think of them; he bit his lip softly as Gala’s shoulders shook in gentle guilt.
“No, I’m so sorry,” He explained quietly, focusing his gaze on Hyde, “You’re right, I feel awful, but I also feel— I feel bad for imposing on you,” His voice was hoarse, which only made Hyde feel worse as he continued to talk. The vampire shook his head in retaliation, shushing the werewolf until he retreated into small sounds of labored breathing.
“Don’t apologize to me,” He murmured, picking back up the cold compress and beginning to wipe down Gala’s forehead, “I’m really glad they called me. You’ve been here for me all this time, and it’s only fair I get to take care of you once in a while.”
He relaxed slightly at the sentiment, putting his weight back into the mattress. It was true enough— Gala had taken care of Hyde’s hungover and drunken body enough for a lifetime— from the first day they met each other onward until Hyde stopped drinking, he had taken care of an intoxicated Hyde at least once a week.
“Can you try and drink some water?” Hyde prompted, anchoring his hand onto the bottle from the bedside table, “I don’t want you to get dehydrated. And you’ve been sweating a lot since you’ve been here.”
He felt embarrassed at being succumbed to his own weakness, but he nodded, softly. Hyde helped him sit up and pressed the bottle to his lips, chills sending shockwaves down his spine as the cool water met his parched lips and throat. A few slow gulps were enough to satiate him, before he pulled away from Hyde’s touch, bringing his hand to his lips to ensure everything went down properly.
The vampire closed the bottle, pushing back strands of hair behind his ear, and placed it back on the bedside table. “Good boy,” He murmured, which Gala didn’t respond to, only sinking back into the bed with a pitiful expression plastered on his face.
Hyde watched his chest rise and fall as his expression eventually relaxed. Sleep was so quick to take him when he was like this. He checked the bedroom clock and frowned slightly.
The restaurant said it would be about 30 minutes until they could deliver. He wasn’t certain how much time had passed since then.
—
With soup delivered, Hyde retreated back into his bedroom where a motionless werewolf lay on his bed. He sat across from him, holding the plastic cup and spoon in his hand, before placing it on the bedside table. Drawing his hand up to caress his cheek, he raised his voice gently to break the silence.
“Gala,” He called, watching his eyes flutter, “I need you to try and eat something.”
Nodding, the man cleared his throat, pulling himself up slowly to sit in the bed. Hyde’s hand pulled away with a small comment, “Your fever seems a little better. Probably will have you take a couple more NSAIDs since you couldn’t keep the last ones down.”
He nodded, his nostrils flaring at the scent attacking the room. Paling for a moment, he raised his hand to his mouth, wincing slightly.
“Egg drop soup,” Hyde muttered, “Yeah. I didn’t really consider the smell would bother you. But a lot of restaurants around here don’t really do the whole ‘chicken noodle’ or ‘bone broth’ thing. Figured this was a decent supplement.”
He nodded, “It’s fine. It’s usually good when my stomach isn’t acting like this,” He explained, as Hyde held the cup steady in his hand, motioning the spoon towards him.
“At your own pace,” He said quietly, which Gala obliged. The man managed down a few spoonfuls before turning the rest away, holding his hand up to his mouth. “If that’s all you can manage right now, it’s fine. Let’s just have you manage to keep that much down.”
Gala nodded, taking a couple of pills into his palm and downing them quickly with the bottle of water. Hyde watched him steady himself back into the sheets, ready to turn back to the living room.
“Can I ask something selfish?” Gala asked weakly, which caused Hyde to turn to face him, curiously.
“I doubt you’re being selfish,” He murmured, “But shoot.”
“Will you lay with me?”
He wasn’t sure if it was because Gala looked so pitiful like that— but something told Hyde to say yes. So quietly, he nodded, finding himself beside his friend, still managing to radiate heat like the summer sun. He lay there motionless for a moment before Gala’s forehead pressed against his bare shoulder.
“You feel good,” He whispered breathlessly, stray hairs tickling Hyde’s pale frame. Finding himself chuckling quietly, he positioned himself to cradle Gala’s head on his chest, fingers fumbling underneath locks of hair still sticky with sweat. He felt the man stiffen until he completely melted under his touch, sturdy arms wrapped around his waist and inhaling the depth of his scent.
Selfishly, he wondered if Gala would remember his feverish desires, but he said nothing. He said nothing as he ran his fingers gently through his hair, as he hummed songs he remembered from his childhood, as he pressed a cold kiss to Gala’s hairline, and as he fell asleep quietly in the arms of his friend.