Chapter Text
When Miles awoke that morning he knew immediately something didn’t feel right. His body was coated in a thin layer of sweat. The temperature felt too hot and too cold at the same time. He rolled over in his bed, tangling the sheets around his form. The prosecutor grimaced as he felt his stomach lurch at the motion. His head, when he first opened his eyes, pounded with a dull ache. Now, it grew in intensity to an incessant throbbing as he pushed the pillow into his skull. Hoping and praying that the cushion would have some magical healing powers and erase the pain.
Through his makeshift cocoon, he heard his phone vibrate on his nightstand. He didn’t have to look at it to know it was a message from Phoenix.
His boyfriend, partner, lover? Regardless, they are both adults in their twenties. The title of ‘boyfriend’ seemed more fitting for teenagers still learning that public displays of affection were not socially acceptable. And ‘partner’ held a certain air of sentimentally and togetherness befitting an old married couple. Miles didn’t feel those two words fit their new connection. So, ‘lover’, God knows they had indulged in that particular aspect of their relationship, would do.
Miles’s lover had left a message for him. It was probably related to the fact that he was scheduled to stop by the prosecutor's apartment today. He knows the polite thing to do would be to grab his phone and respond in a timely manner. This is what he would have done if the very action needed to reach his phone wasn’t sending his mounting nausea through the roof.
He bolted out of the bed. That was quite the feat with how his sheets had twisted around his body. He held a hand over his mouth as he reached his en suite bathroom. Promptly, he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and emptied his stomach of whatever had remained of his dinner last night. His hands shook as he weakly gripped the sides of the toilet bowl. He waited for the wave of nausea to subside completely before he rose to his feet. The sticky sensation of sweat-slicked skin beneath his bedclothes made him shudder. He turned the knobs on the sink and quickly washed his mouth out with cold water. He risked the chance that this was hopefully a one-time occurrence and brushed his teeth and tongue. His mouth now tasting of mint instead of lingering bile; he carefully trudged back to his bed.
He arranged himself back under the covers. His nausea having been appeased by his body’s expulsive act. He tried to relax and let sleep claim him again.
He completely forgot about replying to Phoenix’s message.
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After an indiscernible amount of time passed, Miles startled awake to the sound of his doorbell. Groggy, and feeling that unpleasant lurch of his stomach once more he carefully opened his eyes. He stared at his ceiling, the doorbell still ringing, the person at the door not letting up. Miles cursed their persistence and lack of regard for his current state. With a start, he realized who had to have been the person at his door.
Phoenix
He took three deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, to help keep the sickness at bay. He sighed as the doorbell’s shrill ping broke his concentration. Frustrated and feeling like utter shit he gingerly maneuvered his body out of his bed.
With slow, shaky, strides he crossed the length of his apartment and arrived at his front door. He opened the door to calmly and cordially greet his lover.
Phoenix’s impatience was clearly visible in his body language. However, his features immediately softened as he observed the other’s state. The pajamas still worn well past noon, a paleness to the other’s complexion that was foreign to him, and the way he clung to the door frame as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. An irritated comment related to the other’s timeliness died on his tongue.
“Miles, you look like shit,” he immediately winced at the crassness of his comment.
“Must you be so crude? I am feeling a bit under the weather at the moment.”
Phoenix tried again, “I’m sorry, babe. You look even more pale than usual. Is there anything I can do?”
Miles shook his head still clinging to the door jam, too afraid to move with the way his stomach was doing somersaults. “Wright, I believe it would be in our best interest to-” he cut himself off as the desire to vomit became overwhelming once more.
He ran back into the house, carelessly leaving his door ajar, as he tried to reach a proper place to sick up. Social customs dictating the fact that he really didn’t want to vomit in front of his rival turned lover. I mean, for one it would be rather rude.
He reached his destination and with a mix of relief and revulsion gave in to the nausea currently plaguing him. He lost track of time as he heaved over and over. Each time hoping it was the last, as stomach acid burnt his throat and caused his eyes to sting. When the feeling of sickness finally passed he startled at a gentle touch on his back.
Phoenix was being both comforting and irksome in this moment. Miles looked up at him from his feeble position. His expression was a blend of sympathy and concern for the other.
“Feel better?”
Miles weakly nodded, not trusting his voice with the emotion hitting him and his throat still burning. He watched as Phoenix wet a nearby washcloth in the sink and handed it to him. Miles took the offered cloth and dabbed his mouth with it. He tried not to be disgusted at himself and with what his lover had just witnessed. His eyes felt moist, his body shook, and he was utterly exhausted from the whole ordeal. He had started to lament the short trip needed to return his bed when he found himself lifted by a pair of strong arms.
Phoenix had picked him up and carried him bridal style over to his bed. He gently tucked in the prosecutor, and Miles, too tired to protest, let the other fluff his pillows. A hand smoothed back the wispy strands of hair atop his head and came to rest on his forehead. Miles shivered at the cool sensation leaning his head into the touch.
“My guess is you got a fever. Only one way to tell for sure though. Got a thermometer somewhere?”
“Bathroom vanity. Three vertical drawers, the second one down,” he replied.
Phoenix turned towards the bathroom to fetch the item, but stopped and grabbed a nearby empty trash can first. He handed it to Miles not needing to voice his rationale. Miles nodded his nonverbal thanks and set the bin beside him.
The prosecutor tried quite hard not to think about how he even got to this point. His lover caring for him during an acute illness, one that Miles was more than capable of handling on his own.
He recalled the last time he had been inflicted with gastrointestinal upset. He was stricken with a sudden bout of food poisoning following the annual Christmas party. At first, there were even accusations of a poisoning attempt being thrown around. However, after an investigation conducted by officers outside their precinct, the results were conclusive for improper storage of the salmon used in the entré.
Regardless of what caused it, he remembered being at the mercy of his body for a few hours. Miles nearly vomited again just from the awful taste in his mouth left by the memory. Phoenix had apparently already returned and taken his temperature while he was distracted. He read out the digital numbers displayed on the screen.
“100.8. Yup, you got a fever all right.”
Miles huffed annoyed by the other’s presence.
“You really should go you know. I know we were supposed to go over those documents today. Also, I’m sorry I never responded to your message.”
Phoenix seemingly ignored the other. He continued to fuss even placing a cool washcloth on his overheated forehead. Miles grit his teeth.
“Phoenix! Who is going to defend your client if you also succumb to this illness?”
The defense attorney shook his head, “Chill, you getting all worked up is just likely to make you puke again. Besides, Mia can always fill in for me if I’m under the weather. I’m allowed to take a sick day, Miles. Why don’t you just try to get some rest? I’ll be right outside the room if you need me.”
Miles watched Phoenix’s retreating back as he left his bedroom. He didn’t have the strength to argue with him at this point. He closed his eyes and felt the cool compass soak into his skin. The other’s kindness weighing heavily on his mind.
The prosecutor couldn't have predicted his rival could be so caring and considerate. Also, Miles never thought he would fall so hard for this man. A man who, just months prior, his only concern was beating him in a courtroom battle. With a heavy sigh he gave in to exhaustion and drifted off to sleep.