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There has been a virus going on in the city for the last couple of months. Tim noticed it when his coworkers started to get ill one by one each week. All the same symptoms; fever, sore throat, stuffy nose. Not trying to take any chance of catching the flu, Tim makes sure he takes his daily vitamin, always hydrates, tries to do some workout at least once every two days, eats healthy, and gets his flu shot. After months of watching his coworkers taking turns getting sick, thankfully it finally stopped at the beginning of December, just in time for the holiday season. For weeks, everyone seems so healthy. Until, of course, it’s Tim’s turn. And just Tim’s luck, he gets ill less than a week before Christmas.
Tim hates being sick, but for now, there is nothing that he can do except to lay on the couch, bundled up in a cocoon of blankets, his face flushed with fever. He hates it even more than he gets ill this time of the year, especially this week of the year, when everyone is so busy and there are so many things to do. He still has to wrap presents and prepare for their Christmas dinner with their friends. Their very first Christmas dinner in their own apartment since he and Hawk bought it in early spring.
Speaking of Hawk, his boyfriend is bustling around the living room, determined to make him feel better. Tim loves him for this, but also can’t help to feel guilty. He was the one who kept nagging Hawk to take their daily vitamin, to make sure Hawk also ate healthy at his office, remind him to stay hydrated, and so on. But now he is the one with a high fever, sore throat, and stuffy nose.
"Hawk, do we have any more of that ginger tea?" Tim called out weakly, his voice muffled by a stuffy nose.
Hawk pokes his head out from the kitchen, a concerned frown etched across his face. "Yeah, I'm making some right now. You just relax, okay? I'll take care of everything." A couple of minutes later Hawk comes back from the kitchen with a huge mug filled with ginger tea, with honey filling, because Tim likes it sweet, and Hawk knows it. Tim watches him, a soft smile playing on his lips despite the discomfort he feels. It’s moments like these that made him so grateful that sometimes he questioned his fate or what he had done in his previous life to be able to have this, to have Hawk like this in his life.
As Hawk approaches with a steaming mug, Tim tries to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forces him back down. Hawk gently places the mug on the coffee table and sits beside him, running a hand through Tim's hair.
"Easy there, love. No need to push yourself," Hawk says, concern evident in his piercing blue eyes. "Sip on this. It'll help soothe your throat."
Tim nods weakly, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. The ginger tea is comforting, and he sighs in relief as it flows down his throat, providing a welcome respite from the persistent tickle.
Hawk continues to fuss over Tim, tucking the blankets around him and adjusting the pillows for maximum comfort. Tim lets him, too weak to protest.
“Better?” Hawk asks.
Tim responds with a soft hum, managing a weak smile. "Hmm... It'd be better if you just cuddle with me here."
Hawk chuckles, “I will, but I’m making you soup first. You need to eat hot stuff, so you can sweat it out.”
“You are a hot stuff that I can eat,” Tim says jokingly then laughs. Maybe it was the fever but he feels like he is slightly drunk.
Hawk gasps, pretending to be very shocked, “Timothy David Laughlin, you are a naughty boy.”
"Oh, you know what to do with a naughty boy," Tim says, wiggling his eyebrows, eliciting laughter from both of them.
Hawk runs his fingers through Tim's hair, cupping Tim's face with one hand, gazing at him with those blue eyes. Tim could easily drown in those eyes, especially when Hawk is looking at him like this, full of love and adoration, despite Tim’s being ill like this.
“Stop that,” Tim says softly now. He didn’t know that even with the fever, his cheeks could still blush, making it even warmer than before. Tim wonders how he can still blushes like a teenage girl, even after being the receiving end of that gaze from Hawk for 5 years now. He thought he might get used to it by now, but turns out not.
“Stop what?” Hawk asks innocently, tilting his head to the side, his finger tracing a gentle path on Tim's warm cheek.
“Stop looking at me like that, I’m gross,” Tim says, shyly. The fact that he still feels shy with Hawk too is incredible.
“Bullshit. You are gorgeous.” Hawk says immediately. Tim looks at him and can do nothing but smile, he then gives a kiss into Hawk’s palm.
“Okay, I will make the soup. You get some rest for a bit okay.” Hawks says, gives a gentle kiss to Tim’s forehead, and then goes back to the kitchen.
Half an hour later, Hawk returns with a bowl of steaming chicken soup from the kitchen. Hawk notices Tim has already fallen asleep, he doesn’t have a heart to wake him up, but Tim needs to eat so he can take his medicine and then finally get some more rest. Hawk sits down on the sofa, slowly rubbing Tim’s back and his hair as he contemplates the situation.
Carefully placing the bowl of chicken soup on the coffee table, Hawk leans over to wake Tim gently. "Hey, sleepyhead, I made the soup. You need to eat a bit so you can take your medicine, okay?"
Tim stirs, blinking his eyes open as he registers Hawk's presence. He gives a tired smile, appreciating the effort Hawk is putting into taking care of him. "You're too good to me," Tim murmurs, his voice hoarse but filled with gratitude.
Hawk chuckles, running his fingers through Tim's hair. "Just looking out for my favorite person," he replies, his eyes filled with affection.
Tim sits up, supported by a few pillows, and reaches for the bowl of soup. The aroma wafts through the air, eliciting a small sigh of contentment from Tim. Hawk watches him with a soft smile, glad to see Tim's appetite returning. After finishing the soup, Tim sank back into the cushions, exhaustion evident in his eyes. Hawk pressed gentle kisses to his cheeks and then to his forehead "Get some rest, okay? I'll be right here if you need anything."
As Tim closed his eyes, he felt Hawk's strong, reassuring presence beside him. The rain outside intensified, creating a comforting symphony that lulled him into a much-needed sleep. Hawk remained vigilant, occasionally checking Tim's temperature and making sure he was comfortable.
When Tim woke later in the evening, the fever had broken, leaving him feeling weak but significantly better. Hawk sits on the edge of the couch, reading a book, and looks up with a smile as Tim stirs.
“Hi love. How are you feeling?" Hawk asks, setting aside his book.
Tim stretches and yawns, a small smile playing on his lips. "Better, thanks to you. I don't know what I'd do without you taking care of me."
Hawk chuckles, brushing a strand of hair away from Tim's face. "It's what I'm here for, love. Taking care of each other, right?"
Tim nods, a warm feeling settling in his chest. He reaches for Hawk's hand, intertwining their fingers. "I love you, you know that?"
Hawk leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to Tim's lips. “I know. I love you too, so much.”
They spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other's arms. Hawk, being the big spoon this time, dropped a couple of kisses on Tim’s crown, inhaling the scent of the man that he loves so much, hugging him from behind even closer if that’s possible, and his mind wandering to the little ring box that he hid in his socks drawer.
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