Work Text:
Cullen was on his way home, early. He never left work early, but given that Dorian had texted him that he was (in his words) "deathly ill" and told him to "say his goodbyes now." Cullen found himself in his truck on his way home, early. It was just hitting winter here, the snowfall not treacherous but still enough to give him pause.
“It’s about time you got here!” he heard Dorian shout when he was taking off his boots at the door, “I was just about to call the morgue and let them know they had a body coming in.”
“I doubt it’s that serious, Doe.” Cullen sighed. He walked into their bedroom, seeing Dorian sprawled out, tissues surrounding him, except for the one spot at the end of the bed that was exclusively reserved for their dog, Felix. As he closed the door, Dorian fell into a coughing fit, going so far as to start gagging. He leaned over the bed, reaching for the bowl, but stopped.
“False alarm.” He sighed, and then flopped back down into the bed. “Fuck winter.”
That made Cullen chuckle, which caused Dorian to glare at him furiously. And then he only chuckled more.
“I’m so thrilled you find this so funny, Amatus.” He crossed his arms, looking as disgruntled as he could. But as Cullen cleaned up the bed and laid next to him, snuggling the smaller man into his side, Dorian couldn’t help but smile a little bit.
“You’re infuriating, you know that?” He grumbled, curling up more into Cullen’s side.
“You love it.”
Dorian jabbed him in the side lightly, but snuggled his nose into Cullen’s neck. “Sure. Take advantage of that now.”
The next couple hours were spent lounging in bed, Cullen putting on a favorite movie of Dorian’s and promptly falling asleep on him halfway through. Dorian took advantage of his sleeping state to examine the lummox. When he was asleep he was so calm, and happy. He looked so much younger, and Dorian could imagine a small boy with a mop of blonde curls laying in his sister’s lap. He lightly traced the scar on his upper lip, and laid down. Willing himself to sleep not only for Cullen’s sake, but his own. His head had been pounding for hours now, and his stomach had only just calmed when Cullen got home. Hopefully sleep would help him.
-
Cullen was abruptly woken by the sound of Dorian crying in the bathroom. He got up, making sure to grab a blanket or two and the glass of water that was out on the side table. He kneeled down beside Dorian, who was currently hunched over the toilet, dry heaving.
“That’s it love,” he rubbed Dorian’s back with soothing circles. “It’s okay, get it all out.”
“Go-- mmmrph,” was all he could get out before another wave of gagging hit him. This wasn’t what he’d hoped to wake up Cullen with. He definitely didn’t want Cullen to see him sick and lying on their bathroom floor.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Cullen was still rubbing his back. “I’m here, okay? Don’t answer that.”
After what seemed like forever, Dorian’s stomach let him relax. His face felt awful, tears running down both of his cheeks, nose dripping all on Cullen’s blankets.
"I’m gonna go make you some tea, okay?” Cullen held his shoulders, then moved one hand up to cup Dorian’s cheek. “Will you be okay?”
Dorian didn’t trust himself to talk, so he just nodded. As Cullen left, he curled up in the blankets more, his fever making him burn hot and cold at the same time. He chanced a look at his phone, noticing that it was past 3 am. Cullen wouldn’t be able to get enough sleep for work tomorrow. Well great, now he felt terrible in more ways than he could count.
“Hey babe?” Cullen came walking back in, placing a kiss on Dorian’s most likely sweaty forehead. “You think you can make it back to the bed, or maybe the couch?”
Dorian took a mental inventory of how he felt at the moment. Weak, nauseous, sweaty, cold, hot, sore; there was no way he was walking anywhere. So he just shook his head no. Cullen frowned, but then his face lit up for a brief moment.
“Not to worry, I got you.”
And just like that, Dorian, blankets and all, were hefted up into Cullen’s tight arms. Dorian could have been blushing, though he’ll deny it and say it was because of the fever and change in motion. He was too weary to protest though, and Cullen carried him to the couch in their living room. Laying him down gently, he sat on the far end, letting Dorian lay his head in his lap. He started running his fingertips on Dorian’s scalp, already having shoved the aforementioned tea into Dorian’s waiting hands.
“I love you. You Ferelden dog.”
“I love you too, my heart.”