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6. Sick and Injured
It really had been an accident, Patrick knew, but he was grumpy regardless. David had stretched a move a little too far last night in the bedroom and Patrick was sure that the muscle in his back was never going to recover. To top it all off, Patrick had woken up with a fever and a stuffy nose. He’d felt it coming on last night, but the fever made his skin extra sensitive and he’d pushed through for the sensation it gave while they were fooling around.
It had been worth it, he supposed, but now he was slumped on the couch binging Bake Off and he was grumpy. David was at the store and Patrick was an adult and could care for himself, whether he wanted to or not. For the most part he was content staying stock still, but when he had to get up to use the bathroom or get more tea he swore up and down that David had it out for him. To fuck up his back while he was coming down with the flu just to leave him alone all day to suffer? Rude.
David opened the door to the cottage he and Patrick shared quietly and tiptoed through the living room to the kitchen. He set the bag he’d picked up on the way home from the store on the counter and tiptoed back into the living room to check on his husband. He felt terribly guilty when he saw how pale Patrick was and heard how congested his breathing was.
David sat gently on the coffee table and felt Patrick’s forehead with his palm. “Jesus, you’re burning up, babe,” David said under his breath.
At the disruption, Patrick’s eyes fluttered open to find David completely in his personal space. He coughed into his elbow and winced when it pulled his back muscles.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry you’re sick and injured. You poor thing. I feel terrible for leaving you alone all day. Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were this sick?” David asked, looking around at the little nest Patrick had made.
“I’m mostly okay, David.” Patrick started to push himself up to a sitting position to prove to his husband that he wasn’t dying, but David put his hands on Patrick’s shoulder to stop him.
“Don’t move, you’ll hurt.” David frowned. “When was the last time you took some medicine?”
“I haven’t taken anything.” Patrick relaxed into the couch cushions and reached out to pause the tv.
“You haven’t taken anything?” David’s hands flew up in disbelief. “Have you been keeping track of your temperature, at least?”
Patrick shook his head. “The thermometer and medicine are all the way upstairs.” He cleared his throat to keep from coughing again. It was a very unpleasant experience.
David huffed in frustration and stormed up the stairs to gather the supplies he needed to keep Patrick healthy. “You need to take care of yourself, babe,” David said as he tromped back down the stairs. He set the thermometer and a bottle of Tylenol on the coffee table. “Here.”
Patrick put the thermometer in his mouth and closed his eyes, his head suddenly pounding in time with his heartbeat. He felt David take the thermometer when it beeped. “What is it?”
“38.4.” David set the thermometer on the table again and sighed. “Have you been drinking lots of fluids?”
Patrick sniffled and shrugged, his eyes still closed.
David sighed more dramatically and hurried into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade that he’d bought at the store on his way home and brought it into the living room with him. He’d even thought to grab a straw so that Patrick wouldn’t have to sit up to drink plenty of fluids.
“Drink this.” David handed Patrick the bottle and aimed the straw at his mouth. “When was the last time you ate something?”
Patrick thought for a minute as he sipped his Gatorade.
“Okay, you’re thinking for too long so I’m going to assume you didn’t make yourself anything while I was at work. Good thing I stopped at the café for some soup. Twyla says she hopes you feel better, by the way.” David got up again and brought the little to-go container of soup into the living room with a spoon. “Once you eat some of this I can give you some Tylenol to lower your fever.”
Patrick fed himself some soup while David went upstairs to change his clothes. He was half finished when David returned. “I’m not very hungry.”
David took the soup from his husband and handed him a dose of Tylenol. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“The heating pad would be fantastic, actually.” Patrick grimaced as he coughed again.
“Oh my God, why didn’t I think of that this morning?” David smacked himself on the forehead and went into the kitchen to get the heating pad from the drawer and put the soup in the fridge. He brought the heating pad back into the living room and plugged it in next to the couch. “Where do you want it?”
Patrick just stuck a hand out from his blanket burrito and made grabby fingers.
David handed it to him and watched with concern as Patrick struggled to get the heating pad under himself to relax his back. “I gave you the drugs with codeine, if that makes you feel any better.”
“I always knew you loved me. Thought maybe I was wrong earlier when you left me here for dead, but that made up for it.” Patrick cracked a small smile at his husband to let him know he was joking before patting the couch next to him. “Watch a movie with me?”
David rolled his eyes but crawled onto the couch anyway, happy to hold his husband in his arms.