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Tango's head is thumping, his stomach hurts and everything in his vision is spinning.
He tries to close his eyes to fix it, to make everything go back to normal, but it only makes the dizziness worse. Jimmy is talking to him, and he's really trying to pay attention to what Jimmy is saying, because it's Jimmy, but Tango can't seem to focus on one thing or the other. Everything just hurts.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, and he distantly recognises it as Jimmy's, but his eyes are still squeezed shut and he just wants everything to stop hurting.
"–ngo?" He hears from somewhere around him, but he shakes his head as a response. "Tango?"
"Tango, talk to me, baby," Jimmy is saying, but Tango can't talk or he's going to be sick. "Tango?"
I can't, Tango thinks helplessly, desperately wishing to feel better.
"Sweetheart?" Jimmy asks again, but Tango just shakes his head slightly. He's going to be sick. He knows he is. His stomach aches and he keeps getting sharp pains and he has to keep swallowing back bile before he lets it out and ruin everything that he has with Jimmy.
He keeps his eyes shut, his arms wrapped across his stomach and a small whimper escapes his lips. He doesn't know what's wrong with him, but he wants it to stop now and he doesn't want to ruin... this. Whatever he has with Jimmy.
He knows realistically, somewhere in the back of his sick-ridden mind, that Jimmy isn't going to leave. There's been multiple times where Tango thought Jimmy would leave, and he didn't. He thinks this might be one of those times. But he just doesn't know.
He finally opens his eyes, blinking slowly and wincing at the light. His vision is still spinning and his stomach is still having sharp pains and his head is still thumping, but he can see Jimmy's worried face with his little pout and his eyebrows furrowed.
"Tango?" Jimmy says once more, and Tango lets out another whimper.
"S'rry," he slurs out eventually, tipping his head into Jimmy's chest and lets his tears start rolling down his cheeks. "I'm s'rry."
He can feel Jimmy whisper soft reassurances into his ear, but all Tango wants is to be held by him. They've been together for only a couple of months now, and Jimmy is the greatest thing that's ever happened to Tango. He doesn't want to just ruin it.
He lets out a shaky breath and finally, finally, Jimmy wraps his arms around him, rubbing his back gently and pressing soft kisses into his fast fading blue hair.
"You're okay," Jimmy is saying, and Tango whimpers again. "It's okay, sweetheart. You're gonna be okay."
Tango's not sure if that's true, but he'll believe Jimmy for now until he's proven otherwise.
...
He's not sure when he fell asleep, but when he opens his eyes, Tango still feels awful.
"Hey, sleepyhead," Jimmy says softly from beside him, a small smile on his face. "How are you feeling?"
"Like crap," Tango admits, his voice hoarse. "My head aches."
Jimmy winces in sympathy before sitting down beside him on the bed. Tango's not even sure how he got there, but he's grateful he's not on the floor anymore. Jimmy hands him a glass of water and some ibuprofen, and Tango greedily takes them.
"You were so out of it last night," Jimmy mentions, running his hand through Tango's curls. "I was worried I was gonna have to take you to the hospital. You had a really bad fever, sweetheart."
"Oh," Tango murmurs, leaning into Jimmy's hand. "Sorry."
"Not your fault," Jimmy assures him firmly. "Never your fault."
"I thought–"
"It's not your fault," Jimmy reiterates, pausing and only resuming running his hand through Tango's hair when the latter whines. "It's just unfortunate timing."
"But work," Tango murmurs quietly. "I haven't–"
"I already called you in," Jimmy assures him. "Called my boss too. Grian's coming over with some more medicine, once he can stop making out with Scar."
That elects a snort out of Tango, which results in a coughing fit. Once he's calmed down, Jimmy presses a soft kiss to his forehead.
"Get some sleep, love," he whispers, and though it might be the virus he's currently suffering from, Tango's stomach ties itself in knots from that word. Love.
"'kay," he murmurs, eyes already fluttering closed and his breathing evening out.
"Night," Jimmy's voice sounds, but Tango can barely respond before he's out like a light.
...
When Tango comes to again, he can hear the voices of Jimmy and Grian talking.
His vision isn’t dizzying and his stomach isn’t so painful, but his head still hurts. He’s got the worst kind of headache and he’s not sure what to do. But he doesn’t feel like he’s going to be sick anymore, which is always a bonus.
He blinks tiredly, and glances over at the door. Grian is seemingly leaving, arguing with Jimmy about... something. Jimmy is actively trying to shoo him out the door. It makes Tango smile, how silly his boyfriend is being.
Grian eventually leaves and Jimmy lets out a sigh, shaking his head before looking over at Tango, who is definitely not asleep and is watching him with a fond look.
"Tango!" He says happily, coming back over to where the former is. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," Tango supplies. "Head still hurts though."
Jimmy presses a hand to his forehead, and Tango leans into the feeling of the cool skin against his. "You're definitely not as hot anymore," Jimmy murmurs, a smile desperately trying to form.
"Not hot anymore?" Tango questions, a teasing tone laced through his words. "How am I gonna win you over now?"
Jimmy lets a laugh out that, shaking his head fondly. "You're too much," he teases, and Tango grins. "At least you've got your humour back."
"Again, how else will I win you over?"
Jimmy lets another laugh tumble from his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Tango's forehead. Tango hums happily, wondering how in the world he got so lucky with Jimmy.
Jimmy stands back up, heading back towards the small kitchen and Tango immediately misses the contact.
"Come back," he whines, pouting deeply.
"I'm getting you some medicine and then I'll be right back at your side," Jimmy promises, and Tango watches as he fills another glass of water and pours some medicine into a cup. He comes back over and hands the medicine over to Tango, who downs it in one go.
Tango then shuffles over in the bed, trying to telepathically convince Jimmy to cuddle with him. He knows it's probably unrealistic, with Tango still technically sick, but he wants cuddles, and by God is that too much to ask for?
Jimmy sighs once he realises, places the glass of water down and gets in beside Tango, the latter grinning at his accomplishment.
"If you get me sick," Jimmy warns, "you better take good care of me like I have for you."
"Of course, love," Tango murmurs, eyes slipping closed and burying his face into Jimmy's chest. "Thanks for taking care of me."
"Anything for you, darling."