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27. Uncooperative Patient
Patrick sniffled into his sleeve for the umpteenth time and David had had enough.
“Please, go home. You’re getting your germs all over the store.” He slammed a box of tissues down next to his husband and folded his arms across his chest, trying to look intimidating.
Patrick frowned and blew his nose loudly before sticking his bottom lip out in a pout. “I’m not even sick, my nose is just running.”
David took a second to look his husband over. He was a little pale, but he wasn’t coughing or shivering or complaining at all. Rolling his eyes, David flung out a hand. “If you’re going to pout about it, I guess you can stay. But stay away from me and the customers.”
Patrick grinned up at David and grabbed the box of tissues. “I’ll work on some paperwork in the back.” He pushed aside the curtain and sat at the desk they had crammed in the corner of the back room. Opening the laptop, Patrick was suddenly regretting telling David he wanted to stay at work; his head was pounding from sinus pressure and looking at the bright screen for the next three hours wasn’t something he felt up to.
The runny nose had started that morning, much to David’s chagrin, and Patrick had insisted that it was allergies, but as the day wore on the less he was sure that allergies were the cause. As he plugged away at the paperwork that kept the store up and running, Patrick’s throat started to feel sore and he was sure that if he spoke his voice would be hoarse. What he really wanted was a hot tea from the café, but he knew that if David saw him with tea he would be sent home for sure. Not that it was unusual for Patrick to drink tea, but David would hone in on it and jump into his overprotective mother-hen ways, and Patrick couldn’t deal with that right now. There was too much to be done at the store for him to take time off.
David spent the last three hours of the day texting with Stevie about Patrick’s wellbeing and manning the floor. There were only a few customers that came in, so David wiled away his time moving product a fraction of an inch to the right or left and checking his phone. Stevie didn’t have much of anything helpful to say, but did tell David to mind your own business. If Patrick is sick, he’ll say something because he’s an adult.
Except David knew better.
David groaned as the alarm on his phone woke him up the next morning. He rolled over and stuck his arm out, expecting to feel Patrick in the bed next to him but all he felt was empty space. Confused, David peeled his eyes open and sat up.
“Morning, babe. I made coffee,” Patrick said from the bathroom door. He was freshly showered and had only a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Why are you up so early?” David croaked.
“I dunno. Woke up about half an hour ago and decided to just stay awake.” Patrick walked over to his dresser and dropped his towel so he could get dressed.
David smiled and watched the show, sad when Patrick was fully clothed. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
Patrick smiled at his husband and walked down to the kitchen where he slumped over at the kitchen bar. He’d woken up early because his throat hurt so badly, but he wasn’t about to tell David that. He had a stuffy nose and was freezing despite the sweater he put on after his shower. Nursing his cup of coffee, he tried to get over the way it tore down his throat for the caffeine hit; he wasn’t sure it was worth it. After a gulp that made his eyes water, he dumped the rest of his cup down the drain and told himself he would get a cup of tea from the café on his way in to work.
“Are your allergies still bad?” David asked as he leaned on the counter across from Patrick. He eyed his husband carefully, taking in the rings under Patrick’s eyes and the tinge of pink across his cheeks. He could see Patrick’s swollen lymph nodes from across the room and he felt his own throat ache in sympathy. Trying to tamp down on his mother-hen personality trait, David refrained from saying anything about how Patrick looked and busied himself by making a cup of coffee.
“They’re not any better but they’re not any worse, either.” Patrick cleared his throat and tried to suppress the cough that was tickling at his throat.
“Mmhmm,” David hummed. He had to turn away for a second so Patrick didn’t see him roll his eyes. “Ready to go to the store?”
“Yep.” Patrick hoisted himself up and followed David to the front door, wrapping himself up in his coat and clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. They walked out to Patrick’s car and he drove them into town, parking behind the store like he always did. “I’m going to run to the café to get some tea real quick. You want anything?” Patrick asked as he shut the car off.
“A croissant, please.” David watched Patrick zip his coat up higher and frowned. It was one thing for him to push himself through a cold, but if he had a fever he should be at home resting, not suffering through a day at the store.
“One croissant, coming up!” Patrick feigned excitement and pulled himself out of the car. He walked to the café and put his order in with Twyla. While he waited, he sat at the bar and tucked his chin and mouth into the neck of his coat. He wished he wasn’t so damn cold; all his other symptoms would be easy enough to medicate, but it impossible to use medicine to warm himself up.
“Here you go! I put extra honey in your tea to help you feel better,” Twyla said as she set Patrick’s order on the counter in front of him.
“Thanks, Twy.” Patrick handed her some cash and gathered his goodies, smiling as he stood up. He coughed into his elbow as he exited the café and the cold winter air hit his lungs. Eyes watering, he decided to stop at the pharmacy around the corner to pick up some cough drops and a bottle of paracetamol so he could survive the day.
David stuck his head through the curtain and looked at Patrick, who was slumped over on the desk in the back room. “Babe.”
Patrick didn’t move.
“Patrick, sweetie.”
Still nothing.
Sighing dramatically, David swept into the back room and over to the desk. He placed a gentle hand on the back of Patrick’s neck, frowning when he felt how warm his husband was. He wasn’t surprised, but it was still disconcerting to feel Patrick burning up with fever.
“David?” Patrick slurred, his eyes popping open one at a time and blearily focusing on David.
“Hey, babe. You need to go home.” David brushed his hand through Patrick’s hair. “You’ve got a fever.”
Patrick sighed and let his eyes slip closed at the feel of David’s fingers scratching at his scalp. “Mmhmm. Probably have since I woke up.”
“Patrick!” David gasped. “I knew it wasn’t allergies, but you should have told me you felt so sick!”
“I have too many things to do here, David. I can’t take any time off.”
David put a hand on his hip and rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t look like you’re getting anything done, babe.” Making an executive decision, David draped Patrick’s coat over his shoulders. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to put a sign on the door and we’re going to go home until you’re not running a fever anymore, got it?”
Patrick forced himself to sit up. “No, David. I’ll be fine. There’s too much to do and it’s almost our busy season.”
David bit his tongue, unsure of how long to let Patrick run himself into the ground before stepping in. “But, babe, you’re sleeping back here. Why not go home and sleep in our nice, warm, cozy bed?”
“I’m up. Just needed a little cat nap.” Patrick gave David his most convincing smile and opened his laptop. “Getting to work now.”
Rolling his eyes, David turned on his heel. “If I catch you sleeping again I’m dragging you home, got it?”
“Yes, David.” Patrick rolled his own eyes and pulled up the spreadsheet he was working on the day before, settling in to get some stuff done.
An hour later, Patrick had worked through a tiny fraction of the pile of paperwork sitting on the desk and he felt like crying. The pile was unending and his throat was killing him.
“Ready for lunch?” David asked, poking his head through the curtain. Patrick looked like he felt terrible and David’s heart clenched at the sight.
Patrick nodded, not feeling up to talking, and zipped up the coat that he already had on his body. He was dosed to the gills in paracetamol, but he was considering taking some more to get through the rest of the afternoon.
“I think you should go home, babe. I can stay here so the store stays open, but you need to rest. You look awful.” David felt Patrick’s forehead and noticed the way his husband leaned into the touch.
“I can stay.” Patrick winced as he spoke, the words grating the inside of his throat as they came out.
David frowned. “No, babe, you can’t. You’re clearly sick. This isn’t allergies, which means you’re contagious.” David watched as a war of emotions crossed Patrick’s face before he spoke. Whispered.
“I’ll stay in the back.” He coughed into his elbow, which brought tears to his eyes.
“Oh, babe, I appreciate how dedicated you are to this store. I do. But you look like you’re about to fall over. Come on, I’ll drive you home.” David laced his fingers through Patrick’s and led him out to his car, holding out his free hand for the keys.
Patrick was silent for the ride home, his eyes closed and his head lolled against the window. David felt bad for him—clearly he felt like dogshit but didn’t want to admit it, in true Patrick fashion.
David parked outside their perfect cottage and rubbed the backs of his fingers down Patrick’s cheek. “We’re home, baby. Let’s go inside so you can be horizontal.”
Patrick’s eyelids fluttered and he moved on auto pilot, kicking his shoes off when he walked through the door but keeping his coat on for its warmth. He collapsed on the couch and curled up into a ball, pulling the throw blanket from the back of the couch over his shivering body. He heard David moving around upstairs, but was too busy feeling sick to try and figure out what he was up to.
“Here’s a blanket and a heating pad,” David said as he draped the comforter from their bed over his shivering husband. He plugged the heating pad in and lifted the blankets to hand the pad to Patrick, who hugged it to his chest. “I brought your pajamas. You probably want to be comfy, right?”
Patrick nodded, opening his eyes. The sight of David sitting on the edge of the couch holding his pajamas and the thermometer, along with a pillow and a bottle of cold and flu medication made Patrick’s eyes tear up for a completely different reason than his cough.
“Put this under your tongue,” David said, handing Patrick the thermometer. “I took some Tylenol an hour ago,” Patrick whispered as he took the thermometer from David and slid it under his tongue.
David waited to comment until he read the numbers on the screen. “You took Tylenol an hour ago and your fever is still this high?”
Patrick shrugged and pushed himself to a sitting position to change into his pajamas. He unzipped his coat and let it drop to the floor as he pulled off his dress shirt and swapped it for one of David’s sweaters, and shimmied out of his jeans and pulled on his flannel sleep pants.
“I think you need to go to the doctor, babe. That’s a high fever for a full dose of Tylenol.” David helped Patrick settle back into the couch, sticking the pillow from their bed under his head.
“I don’t need to go to the doctor, I just need some sleep. And some tea.” Patrick reached out of his blanket cocoon and grabbed the remote off the coffee table. “And bad daytime tv.”
David sighed and stood up to make Patrick some tea. He pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and set it on the coffee table, taking the time it took the water to boil to collect everything Patrick might need while David was at work and set it within reach of the couch. When the tea kettle was boiling, David dunked a chamomile tea bag into the mug and squeezed a healthy dollop of honey into the cup, stirring it quickly before bringing it to the living room. “I think you have everything you’ll need until I get home. Will you be okay?” David worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I’ll be fine, David. Go back to the store. I love you.”
“I love you too. Call me if you need anything!” David called as he ran back out to the car.
When David got home from the store he expected Patrick to be asleep on the couch or maybe watching tv; he did not expect Patrick to be sitting at the kitchen table with paperwork spread out all around him and his laptop open in front of him.
“Patrick!” David yelled when he saw his husband. “You’re supposed to be resting!”
“I got bored, David. This all needs to be done anyway, so I figured I might as well work on it while I’m here doing nothing.” Patrick’s voice was nothing more than a croaky whisper and his throat was still aching fiercely.
"What the fuck?” David pushed the screen of the laptop closed. “You weren’t here doing nothing, you were here resting so that you can heal from your illness. How did you even sneak the laptop home?”
Patrick smiled bashfully and shrugged. He breathed a little too deeply, causing him to cough into his elbow until his eyes and nose were streaming down his face.
David slid the box of tissues closer to Patrick but stepped backwards a little to get as far away from the germs as he could while still being helpful. “You should be in bed, babe. Or maybe in the hospital. I have half a mind to carry you to the car right now.” David pulled his sweater up over his nose and mouth to block out the germs.
Shivering, Patrick pulled the blanket he had draped over his shoulders closer to his body. “I don’t need to go to the hospital,” he said once he had caught his breath. “But maybe a doctor’s appointment is in order.”
David baulked at that. Patrick only ever went to the doctor for his yearly physical appointment. It was alarming that he admitted it so nonchalantly. Maybe he should carry Patrick to the car and drive to the hospital. “Okay, so this is making me think maybe we should get you to the clinic.”
Patrick shook his head and tried to stand, having to steady himself on the table when he almost fell over from dizziness.
“Mmm, yeah okay, let’s go.” David whisked into the kitchen and grabbed a surgical mask from the drawer before retuning to Patrick’s side. “Sit down while I go get your shoes, honey.” He helped lower Patrick into the chair and hurried over to the shoe rack, sliding on his own boots and returning with Patrick’s. “The fact that you’re not putting up a fight makes me feel like I’m making the right choice.”
“My chest is pretty tight,” Patrick whispered, rubbing at his sternum.
“That is important information!” David screeched, staring up at his husband in disbelief. “What else are you holding back from me?”
“Nothing, I promise. Coughing just made it worse, that’s all.” Patrick’s voice had given out all together.
Sighing, David wrapped an arm around Patrick and helped guide him to the car.
After a dose of whatever they gave Patrick at the clinic for his bronchitis, he was much more cooperative and David had a much easier time of getting him to stay in bed. “You’ll feel better now that you have antibiotics in your system,” he said as he tucked Patrick in and made sure he had everything he needed close at hand.
“Snuggle me?” Patrick whispered, his eyes not even open.
David smiled warmly down at the doped up Patrick in their bed. “Of course, babe.”