Archive of Our Own ^beta

Malcolm stumbled in through the door, having to steady himself on the doorframe to stop himself from face planting the floor. He’d managed to push his way through the day, but his body was quickly making it clear it was not happy about its current state and wanted to be horizontal as soon as possible.

He slowly shed his outer coat, his muscles aching and his skin prickling with a fever that had set in half way through the day. Not high enough to do him harm, but high enough to make him feel miserable and achy. He’d managed to sweat through his dress shirt and desperately wanted to just shower and wash off the day. Then he’d try and sleep off whatever this was that just didn’t seem to want to shift, having plagued him for most of the week off and on. He was pretty sure the team were on to him that something was wrong, because Gil had told him he would pick him up in the morning and would be bringing breakfast. He usually only did that when he was worried about him.

Malcolm sighed and shuffled over to the bathroom, slowly dropping his clothes to the floor until he was bare and shaking with fatigue. This would have to be a quick one or he’d end up on the floor and he really wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to get back up if he did. With a fortifying breath, he leaned into the stall and started up the shower to get the heat in before he committed to the shower. He knew he should probably have a lukewarm shower to help with the fever, but he was shivering where he stood, everything aching and his skin feeling like it was stretched too tight over his bones, he just wanted to feel the comforting embrace of the warm water over his skin. With a hand that trembled more than usual he felt the heat and let out a satisfied sigh at the warm cascade of water over his hand.

He stepped into the pulsing spray, the warmth of the water slipping over every inch of his feverish skin, making him feel comforted for the first time all day. He tipped his head back, closing his eyes and just enjoyed the feel of the water raining down on him, warming him from the outside in. He didn’t notice that the room had filled with steam, just relishing in finally feeling truly warm.

It wasn’t until he started to struggle to catch his breath that he figured he had probably over done it with the heat. His vision blinked in and out as a shiver ran through him from head to toe, almost knocking off his feet with its force. He staggered a little, managing to catch himself against the side wall. Realising he really should get out, he reached over to turn off the water and the room tilted almost completely to the right and before he knew it he was going with it.

Unfortunately there was nothing to catch himself on that side and he slammed down onto the floor, getting his hand out at the last second and instantly regretting it, when a spike of pain ran right up his arm into his shoulder from his wrist. He knew instantly if it wasn’t broken, it was a really bad strain to his wrist. The instant throbbing in time with his heartbeat making him curl in around it with a cut off moan. He shivered and moaned as he tried to get a grip on the pain radiating out from his wrist and the overall misery he was feeling.

After a good five minutes on his knees, curled over his arm, he was able to get himself under control and uncurled enough to get a look at his arm. The swelling around his wrist already told him it was most likely a break. He cursed his misfortune and looked up at the shower still running beside him. The spray was alternating between barely warm and cold, making him shiver all the more and sending sparks of pain up his arm each time it shifted with his more violent shivers. He shuffled forward carefully on his knees and with his good hand shut off the water.

Now he didn’t have cold water running on him, the steam in the room was still enough to tame his shivers a bit and he could collect himself again to put a lid on the pain. He cradled his wrist in his good arm and shuffled on his knees to the towel rack. Gently resting his injured arm across his lap, he pulled down a towel and slowly and carefully draped it over his shoulders without knocking his sore arm too much. Once he had the towel around him, he dropped down fully on his haunches and left his arm to rest across his thighs. He tried not to think about how he was going to get himself dry and dressed as his wrist continued to throb relentlessly.

Maybe he would just sit here until he dried and then he’d just crawl out to his bed and forgo the clothes. He’d almost convinced himself that would be a good plan when a tingling itch started in his upper sinuses and before he could brace himself properly an almighty sneeze let loose that had him cursing and curling up over his throbbing arm again. Because he clearly wasn’t miserable enough, he was overcome with a run of three more sneezes one after another, that left him gasping in pain and his nose running like a faulty faucet.

He grimaced as he wiped up the evidence of his sneezing fit and made a rudimentary swipe at the important bits to dry and pushed the soiled towel into the corner. He sniffed back his running nose, shivering as his skin prickled with gooseflesh and his muscles throbbed in time with his wrist.

Willing himself not to cry pathetically, he shuffled to the bathroom doorway on his aching knees and gripped onto the doorframe with his good hand as high up as he could. With a mighty heave that took much more effort than it should’ve he managed to stagger up onto his feet, leaning heavy on the door frame with his good side as he panted and sniffed to catch his breath. He looked over to his wardrobe and calculated the effort to get some boxers to put on, compared to the mortification of having Gil help him get them on in the morning. In the end modesty won out and he weaved a crooked path over to his wardrobe and retrieved his underwear and wearily slumped to sit on the edge of his bed. He looked down at himself and again weighed up the effort versus mortification of being found naked in his bed tomorrow morning by his boss and mentor. Again modesty won out and he grunted and cursed his way through one handedly putting on his boxers, almost ending up on the floor and making everything much worse when he stood to pull them up.

When he was finally done, he slumped on the edge of the bed and fought the urge to cry in sheer misery. His nose continued to drip, while filling his sinuses to the point where he couldn’t breathe through it anymore and was forced to breathe through his mouth. That of course just made his throat dry and set off random coughs that jostled his wrist to send stabbing pains up and down his arm. His fever of course decided that he wasn’t miserable enough and he started to shiver uncontrollably. That set his already sore muscles to throb and ache and made his joints feel like they were twice the size they actually were and filled with sand.

Not having the energy to do anything else, he lay down on the bed and curled in over his injured wrist, resting it against his bare chest trying not to knock it as he pulled up his blankets and huddled into them. He willed them to warm him enough that he could sleep even for an hour or two and maybe feel better when he woke. What he ended up doing was sniffing and shivering into his blankets for hours, the throb of his wrist matching his heartbeat, until finally in the early hours of the morning he fell into an exhausted sleep.

He woke up screaming and thrashing to get out of the water he dreamed he was drowning in. His scream turned into a pained cry as he flailed his arm and knocked his wrist against the bed. He curled up around his arm again, rocking to try and manage the pain, but only managing to make it worse when he knocked it again. He willed himself to lay still and take in slow deep breaths to get back on top of the pain. That was mostly a lost cause due his sinuses still being clogged and his chest heavy and thick, like he was trying to breathe through treacle. He took stock of the rest of him and realised that his dream of downing probably came from his fever breaking as he was covered in sweat and the sheets and blankets still tangled around his legs and torso were soaked with it.

He didn’t cry, but only because he knew it would only serve to make him feel even worse in the state he was in. He stared up at the ceiling and absently watched the light creep across it as he tried to get his foggy mind to concentrate on what he needed to do next.

Before he was able to get his mind into any real semblance of order, there was heavy knocking on his door.

Malcolm cursed only then remembering Gil’s promise to pick him up and bring him breakfast this morning. He tried to untangle himself from the blankets, but he couldn’t seem to coordinate his pathetically weak muscles and he just managed to get himself even more tangled up. He sighed in stuffy resignation as he heard Gil’s concerned voice call out that he was using his key and asking if he was ok.

Malcolm didn’t have the energy or breath to answer him and just slumped back into the sweat drenched mattress. He lay there listlessly and waited for the inevitable lecture from Gil that would proceed the fussing and frantic hovering when he finally got to see the state Malcolm had got himself into.

He really wasn’t looking forward to the lecture part, but was almost overwhelmed with the relief he felt at having someone to help him and take over having to figure out how to make it all better. He trusted Gil. Gil always knew what to do and how to take the pain away. Afterall, Gil had been looking out for him most of his life and was always there when he needed him.

Malcolm drifted a little, smiling to himself as he heard Gil stomping into his loft calling out to him.

It would be ok now.

Gil would take care of it.

He could relax now and with that passed back out into sleep.