Archive of Our Own

The sunlight seeped bright and hot through the canvas of their shared tent, forcing Jesus to stir and his eyes to crack open as it warmed his face. He breathed deeply, reveling in the sounds of soft laughter and birdsong from further off. He shifted under the blankets, a smile settling on his face as he glanced over to see Judas still pressed impossibly close to him, legs intertangled with his own. He shifted his arm until he could smooth back the wild curls that had become unruly in the night.

"Beloved," Jesus murmured, feeling fondness wash over him at Judas' relaxed, contented, captivating face. He would never take a single dawn for granted when he got to wake up to him like this- to the gentle calm the morning brought and the delicate intimacy. He could gladly spend multiple eternities with Judas just like this. He dropped his hand, running it over the soft skin of his cheek. "Time to welcome the morning."

Judas crinkled his nose, clenching his eyes tight as he made a noise of disapproval. He grabbed blindly for the blankets tucked around them and pulled them up aggressively. Jesus huffed out a laugh as he burrowed further into the quilts. A morning person, Judas wasn't.

"Judas, we have to get up," Jesus urged in a slightly exasperated tone. "We have to prepare for the journey to Sepphoris. The others are probably already up and expecting me."

It was a trip only meant for Jesus, Mary, and Judas to take, of course. They needed to keep the ministry a bit more discreet, and it was the best way they could do it. Still, there was so much to be done, and it was one of the only things he could think of that might sway Judas away from his precious slumber.

Jesus knew Judas didn't mind Sepphoris as a place, despite it going directly against everything he usually liked. It was bustling, crowded, and loud, with military lurking in every corner, but Jesus liked showing him places where he and Joseph had worked when he was younger, and Judas would listen intently to his stories, eyes almost sparkling. Judas also adored the theatrics that Mary insisted upon, though Jesus knew he would never openly admit it. Not yet, anyway.

Still, Judas remained unconvinced. 

"They think you're their Messiah," Judas mumbled, voice incredibly deeper, as he cuddled closer. "You don't have to do anything. Just tell them sleeping in is part of your divine plan."

Jesus could feel the steady beat of Judas' heart against his own chest, feel his already softening breaths against his shoulder. Bare skin pressed to bare skin, and he could feel the lightest touch of Judas' lips pressed to him unintentionally. It was the most appealing, luring siren song he could have ever been faced with.

Jesus touched his lips to his hair this time, the spicy-sweet smell of the cinnamon oils he used making adoration swoop in his stomach. Judas had rolled his eyes so hard when Mary had given them to him as a gift, Jesus was afraid his eyes would get stuck. Yet, the smile he was trying so desperately not to grin was more obvious than anything. She had explained they weren't actually worth that much, so there was no need for him to fly into fits over it, and to just accept someone being nice to him for once. He had only scoffed in mock offense.

Still, he pressed a kiss to her cheek when the night ended and had used them faithfully since. The scent of them had quickly begun to feel like home to Jesus. 

Then again, everything about Judas felt like home.

He sighed deeply as he shifted to get up, even if Judas didn't, but Judas' arms flew out to wrap around him, holding him in place. "No. You're warm."

"Judas-" Jesus groaned, but Judas only shook his head.

"Stay. Please."

Then, he shifted a bit so he could actually press a kiss to Jesus' shoulder.

Jesus let out a long-winded sigh, "Okay, okay. Fine. You've convinced me. Since you asked so nicely."

Judas smiled without opening his eyes. It was a pleased, smug thing. It made Jesus' lips curve, too, as he settled down next to him once more. The world could wait for a few moments more. His persuasive, relentless lover clearly couldn't. Jesus couldn't stop himself from leaning forward, letting his lips brush against Judas' in a soft press. Judas' eyes actually did flutter open this time, his lips quirking upward. The deep warmth and love in his half-lidded, autumn eyes pulled Jesus in, captivating and claiming him. He shifted forward to meet those sweetened, soft lips again. Judas hummed appreciatively as he returned it, their lips gentle, slow, and loving as they breathed against each other.

He pulled away, getting ready to ask if they could go now, but Judas clearly had different plans. He released his hold around his waist so he could catch Jesus' face instead, prompting him back down. Judas' breath tickled against his cheek, and he was sure Judas could feel the slight scrape of his beard. 

"I thought you said you wanted to sleep," Jesus lightly accused in between breaths. 

"Changed my mind," Judas breathed before he shoved his lips against Jesus' again, only this time the softness had an edge to it. An intention.

Jesus had just felt Judas' tongue swipe against him, asking for permission, when Philip made an appearance.

"Um. My Lord? Judas?"

"What?!"  Judas snapped toward him with a vicious glare. Because some things never changed. Philip's eyes widened as his expression shifted into fear with a squeak. Jesus sent him an apologetic look and a soft smile. 

"You're fine, Philip. What do you need?"

"John has fallen ill."

Judas pulled away from Jesus' hold, his expression dropping almost faster than Jesus could process. He had stiffened as he watched Philip urgently, "When?"

"It's lasted through the night," Philip explained, and it was clear to Jesus that all of this was more directed toward Judas than him. "He's burning with fever, his thoughts aren't clear."

Jesus shot Judas a glance, and it was like he could physically see the shift. His mouth fell into a grim line, his brows furrowed- in empathy or anxiety, Jesus could never tell- and his eyes purposely avoided Jesus'. 

"Give me time to get dressed," Judas was already leaning and grabbing for his clothes. "I'll stay with him."

It was one of those strange things about Judas that no one really had an explanation for- his thing with illnesses. 

At the sound of the slightest cough- no matter who it was- Judas was whipping around with rounded, fearful eyes and a consistent question always on his lips.

"What's wrong?"

If he even thought someone looked slightly off, he was clinging to them and watching as if something would happen the moment he took his gaze elsewhere. He would touch the back of his hands to hot, shivering skin with worry tugging at his face. His voice would become soft and lulling, almost like a tranquil prayer or song. When it came to the sick, he was attentive, gentle, and even kind in a way Judas typically wasn't. It was the part of the ministry he was best at. His touch might not have been divine, but to them, it might as well have been. Whenever anyone felt unwell, it was Judas they wanted.

They always joked he would make for a perfect mother hen.

But Judas also completely, inexplicably acted like Jesus didn't exist when this happened. He would hardly even look at him, only give him short, choppy answers. Whenever someone fell ill, even if he wasn't tending to them, there would be no lingering touches, no loving kisses, or lying together. Not from Judas.

Judas had always taken everything seriously, but this was on a status even beyond that.

"Were you to be a physician before this?" Thomas had questioned once when they were all discussing their lives from before Jesus fondly. It was as good of a guess as any since Judas was never quite forthcoming on anything pertaining to his past, even to Jesus. Yet, Judas just shook his head. He had gotten oddly quiet after that, and when Mary tried to slip her hand into his, he evaded it swiftly before giving a gentle tap on the top of it in apology.

Jesus apparently wasn't the only one he avoided.

So it set the tone for the day. Judas had mumbled that he would handle it, and Jesus took the hint that he was not wanted anywhere near the place. A part of him still wanted to be around, even if only to check on John, but he'd rather not make the air more tense than it needed to be.

The early morning was beginning to drift into a heated afternoon, and Judas still hadn’t emerged. Mary shot him a questioning look as she settled her own bag over her shoulder. "It's getting later and later. If we want to make it before nightfall, we should probably leave now."

Jesus shot a glance over at the tent where he knew Judas was currently residing. He already knew nothing and no one would pull him from this place, and Jesus cursed himself for even selfishly wishing he would come along. Still, the offer stood. Even if he wasn’t wanted around, he wouldn’t leave without saying so. 

"I'll let him know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How is he?" Jesus questioned softly, so he wouldn't wake John as he ducked in, crouching down. James was practically huddled by Judas' side, eyes trained anxiously on his little brother. John was clinging to his hand, even in sleep. His skin looked white and waxy, sweat dotting along his furrowed brow.

"He's resting, now," James answered quickly, voice just as quiet. "He's better than he was last night."

"Good," Jesus nodded, eyes searching over John's small form worriedly.

"The fever is still too high," Judas spoke up. "I'm sure it is affecting his mind even in his sleep. But I don't think it's anything serious."

Judas said the words as if he didn't believe them.

"We're to be leaving soon," Jesus added meekly. He hated to even bring it up, but it wasn't something they could just forget.

"Okay," Judas' answer was short. His eyes were still fixed on John's chest, watching his unsteady breathing. He slowly lifted his hand, placing it right over where his heart would be. He didn't relax when he felt its beating. "I need to be here when he wakes."

"You can go if you want," James sounded exhausted, uneasy, but also guilty. "I can take care of him."

"I'm staying here," Judas assured, his voice somber, confirming what Jesus already knew. "I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave him."

"Maybe I should stay, too, then-" Jesus began, but Judas was rapidly shaking his head.

"Go, Jesus," Judas all but snapped, not even looking at him as he moved to dip a cloth into a cool bucket of water and ring it out. "The people are waiting."

It was such a shift from Judas' earlier appeals, with his soft smiles and gentle sighs. All of that was gone. And with it, gone was the Judas they had all worked so hard on pulling out of his shell.

It was like Judas wanted him to disappear as quickly as possible. 

Jesus felt an ache at that but nodded slowly. Even if Judas couldn't see him. "James, will you be alright?"

He managed a nod, but he shot another worried look at his brother. By the looks of it, he wasn't too far off from collapsing either.

"Yes. Yes. Of course," he murmured. "Judas is right. This shouldn't stand in the way of you helping other people."

Jesus was almost sure that wasn't exactly Judas' point, but nonetheless, it was probably a correct one. Jesus was sure John would be fine in only a few days. There could be someone else out there who wouldn't be.

"Alright," Jesus rose. "Be at peace. I'll return soon. If anything changes, send for me immediately."

James was already nodding frantically. Judas didn't say anything.

He was just stepping back into the warm air when a voice stopped him.

"Jesus."

He froze, turning to look over his shoulder to find Judas still not looking at him.

"Please be safe."

"I will," Jesus promised. "You as well. I love you."

Judas only hummed, soothing his hand across John's forehead, checking for a change in temperature.

And that was that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The people were insatiable. They begged for more. More healing, more words, more time. Jesus had granted it to them, his own heart feeling fuller and fuller as time went on, even despite Judas' noticeable absence. 

Days turned into a week.

They were gone for only eight days.

When they returned, he and Mary were practically glowing, fingers interlaced as they laughed and reflected. It had all been so good. Jesus really was disappointed that Judas wasn't there with him. If he had been there, it simply would have made everything perfect.

He could hardly wait to see him.

But Judas wasn't there to greet them as they arrived. He wasn't sitting to the side with the others, a smile creeping across his lips as Jesus' gaze found him. He would always make room for Jesus so he could sit right by him as he relayed the details of the journey to the apostles. Then he would take him by the hand, leading him away so they could speak privately. Amongst other things.

Naturally.

Yet this time, Judas was nowhere to be seen. John was sitting close, though. He still looked pale, his smile weak, but James had an arm thrown around his younger brother, looking relaxed. It was clear he had recovered, that things weren't as tense as they had been when he had left.

So that wasn't the reason why Judas was missing.

Jesus felt a twinge of worry spark in him, his smile slowly fading. He had just parted his lips to speak when the others saw him. Instead of asking the million questions he had prepared for, they all fell silent.

"I'll go fetch Peter," Andrew murmured as he pushed up from his spot. Jesus had just realized he was missing as well.

"What happened?" Jesus breathed, his heart beginning to thunder in his chest.

They didn't even have time to answer before Peter was bustling toward them.

"Judas isn't well," Peter rushed out as soon as he saw them. He looked stressed, disheveled. Jesus felt everything in him sink as cold fear washed over him.

"What?" Mary sounded, hand dropping from Jesus' as she stepped toward him in concern.

"He fell ill- We think with what John had. Except- maybe worse." Peter explained as he turned to face Jesus. "I'm sorry."

"And no one sent for us?" Jesus questioned heatedly. "You left him lying alone?"

"I- He told us not to," Peter provided guiltily. "He was quite adamant about it before he couldn't be."

Jesus could feel his face pale.

"Take me to him," Jesus demanded, attempting to keep his composure despite the way it felt like it was slipping further and further from his grasp. Panic threatened to overtake him instead.

"Of course," Peter breathed.

"So what's happening?" Mary asked anxiously as they moved away from the others. "You said he was like John, so-"

"He's absolutely burning," Peter explained. "He sounds horrible, and he mostly sleeps. Which I think we should be grateful for because when he awakes-"

"I thought I heard you."

Jesus whirled in the direction of the grated, thick sound. Judas was swaying and looked unsteady on his feet. His cheeks and nose were rosy, and his curls stuck to his forehead from perspiration. His eyes were almost completely dark, his pupils blown wide. 

What surprised Jesus the most, though, was the wide, dopey smile crossing Judas' lips.

"Judas, you need to lay back down-" Peter tried to rush to his side, but he only surpassed him, eyes fixed on Jesus.

"Jesus," He chirped, smile widening to a grin. "Mary."

He outstretched his hand to them. Jesus rushed to take it, urgently moving forward as a breath left him. He pulled him closer so he could support him. The amount of wavering in his stance wasn't doing much to calm Jesus' anxieties. He could feel the feverish heat radiating from him, contrasting sharply with the cool of the night. 

"It's alright, Judas," Jesus murmured, holding him tight. "I'm here now."

"Oh," he murmured, almost longingly. His eyes kept flittering across his face, a glimmer searing through the clouded gaze. "I do love the way you say my name."

Jesus blinked. "Uh- Thank you?"

"You're so lovely," Judas sighed. "I could just-"

Judas didn't kiss his cheek or even his mouth like Jesus would have expected him to- Not that Jesus was expecting anything of the sort in the first place. Judas wasn't particularly purposefully open with his affections, and he certainly shouldn't be now. Yet Judas was pushing upward, pressing his lips to Jesus' neck. They were dry and heated against him. Jesus' brows nearly shot up to his hairline as he jolted.

"Ahem," Peter called over to him, a note of distress running through the sound. Judas pulled away at it, eyes gleaming as he ducked his head against him.

Then he was giggling against Jesus' chest. Giggling.

Judas didn't giggle.

"Oh, God. He's a happy drunk," Mary murmured in astonishment.

Judas pulled away, face morphing into confusion, "I'm not drunken. I don't-"

"I know," Jesus rushed out, trying to assure him he had no need to try to prove his morality in this state, but the smile returned just as quickly as it left, a mischievous glint entering his eyes with it.

"But we could be."

His legs were beginning to buckle beneath him. Jesus could feel his weakness despite his gaiety. He was leaning heavily against Jesus, and he knew if he were to move, Judas would go tumbling to the ground.

"Beloved, why don't we lie you down?" Jesus suggested softly.

"M'kay," Judas murmured against him before he went slack completely, slumping forward, fully allowing Jesus to support all of his weight.

"Woah, okay," Jesus breathed as he shifted to get a better hold of him. He turned and gave Peter a look. "Has he been like this the whole time?"

Peter shook his head exhaustedly. "It's up and down. At some points, he's like this. At others, he's just... really upset."

"Right," Jesus gave a sharp nod as he adjusted his grasp on Judas- who was still beaming even if he didn't seem all that aware anymore. "Do you mind helping me get him back to the tent?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter shook his head. "Of course."

It was an awkward shuffle of a thing that had Judas giggling all over again as Jesus and Peter struggled. Mary trailed behind them, still more shocked than anything.

They managed to get him back, easing him down in a pile of blankets that were clearly slept in and disordered.

"Thank you, Peter," Jesus made sure to say when he saw the look in Peter's eyes. They were skeptical, concerned as he looked down at him. "For watching over him. I appreciate it more than you could ever possibly know."

"I tried, but I don't really-" Peter shrugged helplessly as he glanced down. "I'm not him, you know?"

Mary touched her hand to his arm, giving him a kind smile, "You did perfectly. You kept him safe and secure. I'm sure Judas will have no complaints."

"I still wish you would have sent for us," Jesus added as he bit at his lip. "How long has he been like this exactly?"

Judas was stroking his fingers across Jesus', acting like they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Going on four days," Peter sighed. "John's was beginning to clear at this point. So he should be soaring his way to better days."

"Wait," Judas was suddenly weakly trying to push himself back up. "Wait, wait, wait."

"Hey, just-" Jesus moved to soothe him, pressing against his clammy skin. "Let's just stay sitting down for a while, yes?"

"Did the birds hatch?" Judas questioned, smile still in place and excitement flaring in his eyes as he grabbed at Jesus' wrist.

Mary shot Peter a questioning look. He only shrugged in return, looking troubled. "He keeps mentioning birds. I don't know."

"Did they?" Judas pressed on, clearly not letting it go.

"Judas," Peter sounded exasperated. "I told you already. There are no-"

"Yes," Jesus answered, cutting him off as he moved to sit next to him. Judas was like his own personal flame. "Yes, they hatched. When you're well, I'll take you to them, alright?"

Judas laughed- a delighted, rare rumbling rasped sound that had Jesus smiling, too, despite his worry. He fell back onto the nest of blankets and quilts Peter had created for him. Still laughing. Still grinning like a fool.

The laughter soon ebbed off into a coughing fit that made Jesus cringe. Peter was right. He sounded horrible. Judas' arm flew up to block it as a pained look crossed his face. Jesus rubbed his hand at his chest as empathy gripped his own. It sounded like it hurt terribly. Once he had finished, he was practically gasping for air. 

"Is there water?" Jesus asked, and Peter was nodding again, rushing to press some into his hand. Jesus gently lifted Judas' head as he touched the container to his lips. He only sipped at it, really, before pulling away from Jesus' hold.

"I love you," Judas sighed, causing them all to freeze. He smiled up at Jesus before clumsily pulling at Jesus' wrist and pressing a kiss to his hand. "Love you."

Jesus had said the words to Judas so many times, even before their relationship. He had made sure he always knew he was adored. But Judas had never returned the sentiment. Not once. Jesus knew, of course, that he did, but there were so many things that came hard to Judas. Those words happened to be one of them.

"I love you, too." Jesus had never meant the words more. His voice sounded a bit more strained, a strange warble entering into the words. He blinked a bit to clear away the unexpected emotion rising. He could feel Mary and Peter's eyes burning into him. Jesus glanced up at both of them, "Mary, take Peter and ensure he gets some rest. I'm sure he's exhausted. I can take this from here."

"I'm not leaving-" Mary began indignantly, almost surprisingly offended. Peter, however, didn't argue.

"I only don't want you getting sick, too," Jesus assured, sending a gentle but stern look in her direction. "You know Judas wouldn't want that."

"Yes, I wouldn't want that," Judas echoed, though it wasn't quite clear if he was paying attention to the conversation or not. He was too busy staring at Jesus like a love-sick dove. Still, Mary's gaze softened at him before she heaved out a sigh.

"Fine, but if anything changes, let me know," she declared. "Come, Peter. I'll tell all of you what happened in Sepphoris."

With that they were gone, leaving only Jesus and Judas. When Jesus glanced down at him, Judas was glowing. "Hi."

Jesus returned a smile a bit weakly as he allowed himself to feel his worry in full force now that they were alone. It was how things usually went. Jesus could only truly allow himself to feel everything when it was only Judas around, even now. Despite Judas' obviously good spirits, it all felt so wrong. He was shivering almost violently despite being the recipient of Jesus' body heat, and he could feel the way his skin prickled underneath his hands. "Hello, Judas."

Jesus didn't get sick often throughout his childhood- only once or twice came to mind- but he remembered his mother giving him honey to ease his throat or rosemary if his stomach ached. He remembered how she would sit with him, telling him stories to pass the time, pressing kisses to his own hot forehead as she soothed him. He remembered her singing softly, the lyrics cutting through the discomfort and the twisting sick feeling. Jesus was almost sure he could remember some of the words.

Before he could even start to do any of those things though, Judas was tipping his head forward, laying it against Jesus' chest. Jesus immediately wrapped his arm around him, embracing him closely. They just stay like that for a while, Judas' eyes becoming heavy and his breath a bit strained. Jesus allowed his fingers to caress up and down Judas' arm, hoping to rub some warm feeling back into him.

"I can feel your heart," Judas whispered in amazement after a moment. It jolted a fond laugh out of Jesus. Judas' eyes widened even more. "I can feel your laugh."

He lifted his hand to place it on Jesus' chest too, his fingers curling ever-so-slightly. Judas shifted to stare up at him, and he looked so open it nearly made Jesus' breath cease, "I can feel you. And I love you. I've never loved anything more than I love you. Isn't that terrifying?"

For someone who would never even utter the words before, two times in the span of one hour was frankly jarring. It almost felt like an invasion of privacy, like Jesus was taking advantage of him even if he wasn't prompting this. So Jesus smiled sadly, easing Judas until he was laying back on his chest. He had started shivering harder. "Why don't we rest for now? We can talk later."

Judas gave an accepting nod, still looking astonished. He started to trace gentle patterns over Jesus' chest, making chills of his own dance across him. 

Jesus began to hum the tune from his childhood- Judas paused for a minute, listening to it vibrate from his chest- before the words softly spilled from his lips. Judas' hand continued, moving in time with the melody, until eventually, he relaxed. It wasn't long before Judas was drifting off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jesus hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep too until he was being violently jolted awake. A gasp ripped from him as his eyes flew open to a panicked Judas kneeling over him in the dark.

"My mother," Judas' breath was labored. His eyes were as wide and as shining as the moon. "Jesus, my mother."

"Your mother?" Jesus questioned, voice still deepened and mind still reeling from sleep. He sat up slowly, grabbing for Judas' arms. 

"She won't get up," Judas whimpered. "You have to come with me. You have to heal her."

"Judas, your mother isn't-" Jesus began, carefully shaking his head. He didn't know anything about the woman. Judas never mentioned her. But the way Judas was reacting only made a pit form in Jesus' stomach.

"Please. Please. Jesus, it's my fault. Please help me make it right," Judas begged. "I have to make it right. I can't do that without you."

Jesus' heart shattered. Judas was never the type to ask for anything in the realms of divinity. He tended to stay clear of it completely. Yet, now desperation and fever made his eyes gloss brightly. His chin was trembling and dimpling, clearly holding back emotion that would burst at any moment.

"Judas," Jesus kept his voice soft. "My beloved, we're not in Kerioth remember? We're in Galilee. Your mother isn't here."

Judas shook his head rapidly, reaching for Jesus' hand. The amount of strength he suddenly had was surprising. He gripped his hand tightly in his own, making both of their hands whiten and blood flush to their fingertips from the pressure. "I heard her. She is here. Please, you have to-"

"Okay," Jesus soothed, scooting forward, taking Judas' feverish face in his hands. "It's okay. She's okay."

"No, she's-" Judas tried, his eyes welling dangerously.

Jesus leaned forward to touch his lips to the center of Judas' forehead. His heart sank when he realized how much he had heated. His fever was getting worse, not better.

"It's my fault," Judas whined, bringing up clumsy hands to pull away from Jesus. "I-You don't understand-"

Judas' words were cut off by another whimper of distress. He finally succeeded in ripping away from Jesus' hold. He pushed himself back, eyes scanning desperately. He raked both of his hands through his hair, leaving it in disarray. When he spoke, it was high and faint, "I should have been there. I should have stayed. Why did I leave?"

Jesus stiffened, suddenly noticing a chill in the air as his skin prickled, "Judas?"

"I messed up," Judas' voice was splintering, and it wasn't just from the raggedness of his throat. "I messed up really bad."

"No, you didn't," Jesus heard a trill of anxiety run through his own voice, reaching for him. "You didn't do anything. You're okay."

Judas let out a choked sound, his hand flying to his lips and his eyes widening in panic, and that was all the warning sign Jesus needed.

"Oh," Jesus whispered as he sprung into action, grabbing for the pail they had shoved in the corner for this specific reason. He pushed it into Judas' hands at just the right moment. He reached around to push Judas' hair back as he emptied what little contents of his stomach he had left. "It's okay. You're okay. Just- Oh, Judas."

Judas was sobbing, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes as his face screwed, as tears fell like rain. His cries were intermingling with wretched coughing that Jesus knew had to hurt. He moved to rock him slowly, rub at his back so he could breathe better, but nothing seemed to be working to calm or soothe him. He wasn't really sure what to do with a crying Judas, much less a sick, crying Judas. Especially when he didn't really know what the situation was. He could only assume something had happened to his mother, something that Judas harbored guilt over. He said she needed to be healed.

Something clicked, and suddenly Jesus understood more than he had expected to. "Oh, Judas. Oh, no."

"She was alone,"  Judas wailed. "I could have helped her!"

"I'm sorry," Jesus' voice cracked over the apology. "Judas, I'm sorry. It's not your fault."

"I could have saved her!" Judas sobbed, shaking his head. "I could have!"

Judas was nearly heaving again from the intensity of his sobs, and he was sounding too stifled for Jesus' comfort.

"Try to breathe," Jesus soothed a hand down him. "You're going to make yourself sicker."

Judas just shook his head again, his whole body wracking with the cries, "It's my fault!"

"No," Jesus assured. Judas' crying breaths were coming in short sounds. "No, Judas. Nothing that happened to your mother is your fault. She's okay."

Jesus felt a wave of panic when he felt Judas tilt and slump a bit, nearly losing hold of the pail. Jesus' hand shot out to catch it and move it away with a cringe. He pulled Judas closer to him, his back pressed against his chest.

"Okay," Jesus urged as his breath came quicker. "Just breathe with me. You can feel me breathing right?"

"I feel you," Judas whispered faintly. "I don't-I don't feel well-"

"I know," Jesus winced, heart tugging. "I know. I'm sorry. Just take a deep breath for me, love."

Judas tried. He really did. It came out more stuttering than anything.

"Good, good," Jesus encouraged. "Another? Just like me?"

He gave an exaggerated breath. Deeply in and deeply out.

Judas mimicked, even if it came a bit shorter. 

They sat just like that for a while, breathing together until Jesus was sure he had calmed down enough.

Regardless, Judas didn't stop weeping for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of days later, he could practically feel the change.

Judas had shifted away from him at some point during their sleep. Jesus sat up quickly, glancing over his reddened face. "Judas?"

"Ugh-" Judas groaned, burying his eyes in the crook of his elbow. "Feel

awful."

Jesus' brows shot up at how normal Judas seemed. He still sounded congested, and his face was still puffy and red from the previous night- the crying proved to not be a one-time thing- but still, he seemed...normal.

"I know," Jesus repeated, going to reach for a nearly forgotten cloth to bring it back up to his still-burning forehead. Judas hummed at it approvingly, giving a slight nod. "Is that good?"

"Head hurts," he mumbled in explanation. "Really, really bad."

Jesus felt his chest ache at how miserable Judas sounded. At least he seemed coherent now. That had to mean things were only going up. He moved to press the cloth to his cheek, giving him a smile he knew couldn't possibly reach his eyes. It hurt so badly, seeing him like this. He hated seeing him suffering and unwell. He wished he could take it from him. But that's just not how it worked.

Judas reached up, pushing his hand and the cloth away as he turned to his side and let out a croaked, wheezing cough. Jesus winced at the sound.

"It sounds like it's breaking up, at least," Jesus tried to sound hopeful. Judas only let out a groan in response. Jesus shifted close to him, allowing him to feel him near.

Another fit of painful-sounding coughing wracked through his body as he burrowed deeper into the quilts. 

"You should go," Judas rasped when he finished, his voice in tatters and mumbled by the fabric. "I don't want you to get sick."

Jesus made a soft sound, stroking his hand through Judas' hair. He scratched his nails gently over his scalp in what he hoped was a relaxing gesture, "I won't get sick."

Judas peaked over his shoulder at him, eyes bleary and accusing, "Liar. That stuff doesn't work on me."

"I won't," Jesus laughed softly. "Honest. That's why I sent Mary away. My tolerance is better. I grew up in a house full of siblings, remember?"

"Mm," Judas accepted, flopping back down. "Truly a nightmare."

Jesus gave a downturned smile at the back of his head. He could pretend he hated other people as much as he wanted, but he knew Judas hated being an only child. He knew he always hated being alone, even now. 

Jesus suspected there was a reason for that. 

Jesus was always left with more questions than answers with Judas, though. Even when he did get answers, it was never intentional. 

"You should know," Jesus spoke gently. "You spoke of your mother."

He could feel the way Judas went rigid, the sound of his labored breathing only worsening. 

"Oh?" It was a strangled sound. Judas looked back at him, his eyes wide and scared. 

You shouldn't be , Jesus wanted to tell him.  You have nothing to fear with me.

Jesus nodded, letting his fingers continue to attempt their soothing. 

Judas' tongue darted out against his dry lips as he took a deep, painful-sounding breath, "What- Uh. What did I say?"

"You said she was sick," Jesus provided. "You said I needed to heal her. That you wanted to make it right."

Jesus didn't see any sense in telling him the other parts. He was sure Judas knew them well enough. He didn't want him to have to hear the accusing words spilled from Jesus' lips, too, even if he would never actually mean them personally.

"Oh."

Jesus hummed, twirling his fingers in the curls. Judas dropped his gaze, and Jesus could have sworn he saw his lip tremble, but Judas was hiding away again just as quickly as it happened.

"You seemed quite upset," Jesus told him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Judas hesitated before shaking his head.

"Not yet," he whispered. "Not now."

The despair in the words was palpable. 

"That's alright," Jesus assured. "Just whenever you're ready."

Judas nodded before clenching his eyes closed with a contained moan.

"Rest, beloved," Jesus whispered. "I'll be here when you wake."

Any of the earlier merriment Judas had possessed had long since disappeared. Jesus could feel the discomfort and suffering stirring in the air. There was almost a hint of shame that came with it. He was coming back to himself- and while Jesus was beyond grateful, a part of him ached. He wished for Judas to be cheerful and joyous more than anything, but it was something he could only possess when his wits weren't about him. There would always be an underlying despair swirling around Judas, even if he was at his happiest. He could feel it when they were together sometimes, when Judas would pause and look at him like he was so frightened, so anxious. It was all so strange and heartbreaking. Jesus felt a frown of his own tug at his lips. 

He could feel Judas' breath even out again as much as it could, and he knew Judas had thankfully succumbed once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It came to an end sooner than Jesus had expected it to.

He had felt Judas fidgeting around, stirring restlessly as Jesus himself was falling in and out of sleep, but he didn't think much of it. He kept shifting and shifting until suddenly Judas was shooting up with a huff, and fumbling with his shirt.

"Judas?" Jesus questioned in alarm, tensing in panic as any lingering tiredness was chased away. He fully expected Judas to start crying, or for delirium to lace back through his mind. 

"I'm really hot," Judas panted in explanation, his breath sounding sparse. "Like really hot. I just- I need to-"

"Yeah," Jesus nodded in understanding, sitting up quickly to help him. He grabbed at the hem of his shirt at the same time Judas did as they both rushed to pull it off him.

When Jesus' hands dropped to help Judas with his trousers, Judas glanced up at him from underneath his eyelashes, a smirk ghosting over his lips as his chest still rose quickly. "Well, you could have just asked-"

Jesus swatted at his stomach, "You're clearly feeling better. Lift your hips."

Judas obeyed quickly, obviously desperate to cool himself down. Jesus was grateful for the change really. Judas shoved all the blankets away from him, letting out a breath when all the work was done. 

"Here," Jesus provided, grabbing the water and pressing it to his lips. "Your fever is breaking."

"Really, Jesus? I hadn't noticed," Judas snarled heatedly as he went to take the drink. He gulped at it frantically before he dragged the water back from his lips with a wince. "Sorry."

"No worries," Jesus only grinned back. "It's good to hear you sound like yourself."

And it really, truly was.

"No, I'm truly sorry," Judas mumbled. "Not just for that. I just- I know all of this had to be a lot. I know you have a million things you need to be doing, and I practically dragged you away-"

Jesus exhaled, brows scrunching. "Oh, Judas, no. You don't have to apologize. You were sick."

Judas cringed, "It's a bit mortifying, though, isn't it?"

"Not at all. I don't mind taking care of you," Jesus told him, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "I actually wish you would let me do it more often. Especially when you're sweet like that."

Judas scoffed, glancing away. This time the flush in his face wasn't from fever. They just sat in the quiet for a while, Judas sipping his water and Jesus occasionally feeling his forehead. He didn't feel like he was on fire anymore, at least, and the coughing didn't sound as violent. For the first time in days, Jesus allowed himself to sigh and his shoulders to drop.

"I should apologize to Peter, too," Judas murmured after a moment. "I'm pretty sure I traumatized him. I don't really remember everything but...Yes. I should definitely apologize."

"Poor Peter," Jesus agreed lightly with a nod before he gave a gentle smile. "Poor Judas."

"More like poor Jesus," Judas winced. "I wasn't completely delirious through all of that. I'm pretty sure I drooled on your shoulder more times than I could possibly count."

Jesus waved him off, "Please. With the things we've seen, that was nothing. It could have been much worse."

"So I did well, then?" Judas purred, and Jesus could tell he was trying to shake off some of his embarrassment. "Was I a good patient for you, Great Physician?"

"Very good," Jesus sighed, not actually taking the bait he knew Judas was dangling in front of him. "Honestly, I thought you would be more grumpy and stubborn. I guess people truly do become their opposites when they're sick."

Judas made an offended sound.

"I am not stubborn," Judas argued. "Or grumpy. I'm simply..."

Jesus waited only to be met with silence. He grinned. "You can't think of another word for it, can you?"

"Hush," Judas grumbled, crossing his arms. "My mind is still foggy."

"That's alright, I like that you're grumpy. I wouldn't want you any other way," Jesus permitted, leaning in just a bit.

Judas pulled a face as he wrenched back, holding up a hand, "No. Not until I can clean up a bit first. My fever just broke. I still feel a bit off."

"Judas, you wound me," Jesus huffed out. "I thought you said you loved me."

Judas paused at the words, gaze flickering downward as the tops of his cheeks reddened. "Mhm."

Jesus beamed at the fact he remembered before calming his expression.

"You declared it in front of our friends, Jude," Jesus spoke seriously. "In their book, that means we're practically wed at this point."

"Oh, God," Judas moaned, covering his eyes. "There's so much stuff I'm not going to be able to live down after this."

"I think kissing my neck in front of Peter will definitely be on the list," Jesus stated, enjoying the way Judas kept getting redder and redder. "I think that might be the thing that traumatized him the most."

"You'd be surprised," Judas mumbled. "At some point, I kept demanding he bring me olives. He was distraught, Jesus. Simply distraught."

Jesus chuckled, scooting towards Judas and throwing an arm around him despite his protests and squeaks that he was gross.  He pulled him into his side.

"If you fall ill again, please let the others tell me," Jesus spoke quietly, seriously. "I would have been by your side in an instant. And I would have found you all the olives you could eat."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on eating them. I was far too nauseous for that," Judas added nonchalantly. "I just wanted to accumulate them."

Jesus blinked. "Judas. That's...Strange."

His shoulders began to shake next to him, soft peals of laughter coming from behind his hands. "Yes. Peter thought so as well." 

"I'm serious, though," Jesus pressed on, fighting through a smile. "Please tell me. I want to be with you through everything. You don't have to be alone when things like this happen. I love you, you know?"

"I love you, too." Judas returned, and it was spoken so quietly that Jesus almost didn't catch it. But he did. Completely present, he said it. Jesus fell silent, his lips parting as he searched for words he couldn't find. Instead, he settled on hugging Judas closer.

"Oh, how we alarm them all, My Lord," Judas sighed as he peaked out from behind his fingers, a smile playing at his lips. "Even ourselves."

Jesus was quiet for a moment, considering as he watched Judas and his tired smile as he dropped his hands. Judas glanced down, something in his expression shifting. He carefully reached over, taking Jesus' hand, and interlacing their fingers.

"I want to talk to you about some things, someday," Judas began quietly. "I know some things happened while I wasn't well. I know you're bound to have questions, but right now- I just can't right now. Believe me, I want to, it's just-"

Jesus knew he didn't trail off because of a foggy mind this time. He pressed his lips to his temple. "All in your time, beloved. I'll be here to listen whenever you need me to. Forever and always."

His eyes sparkled as he gave Jesus a smile.

"Forever and always."