Work Text:
Hot, cold, hot, cold, it doesn’t stop, like his damn body can’t make up its mind. William pulls the blankets tighter around him as another wave of chills comes over him. He wants to cry, but he doesn’t want to look stupid.
Gabe presses a damp cloth to his forehead. “It’s not stupid. I always get sick after tour.” Apparently William said that out loud.
“’M sorry,” he mutters, trying to stop his teeth from chattering.
“For what?” Gabe asks, voice soft and soothing. “I don’t mind taking care of you.”
William tries to open his eyes, but the second he does a surge of dizziness washes over him. He closes them again, but his head is still spinning. “I’m in love with you,” he says when he feels Gabe’s hand on his cheek.
“I think the fever’s got you delirious,” he chuckles. "Maybe I should grab the thermometer again..."
William wants to argue but sleep pulls him under like the weight of a heavy blanket, and he can’t help but go.