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To say Benatar was not used to cold weather would be an understatement.
Autumn was basically his last-chance to make sure his closet was full of warm clothes, extra coats, scarves, gloves and knit-hats, as well as making sure (his side) of the pantry was stocked with soup, tea, and at least 10 bags of Takis© to help keep his insides warm.
Winter itself practically destroyed him. The moment the temperature dropped below 60-degrees, the poor brit had to wear four layers of clothing just to ensure his blood wouldn’t freeze.
The rest of his friends felt he was being overdramatic…
Until he caught a cold--- fever, runny nose, sore throat, coughing, sneezing, the works. And it’s not exactly easy to go to rehearsals or do any gigs when you barely have the stamina to get out of bed.
So, when their home-town got hit with a heavy snowfall with the temperature being in the single digits, Benatar did what he could to keep his body temperature up, took cold medicine the moment he felt his nose get stuffy, and would not leave the apartment unless absolutely necessary.
…He still got sick the next day.
He groaned when he woke up that morning, feeling like his soul left his body. Despite having slept a good ten hours, he still felt exhausted. His entire body felt cold--- save for his forehead, which felt hot enough to boil water.
Benatar sniffled, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders as he moved out of bed and slowly made his way into the kitchen. “Need… tea...” he murmured to himself, his throat feeling like he swallowed sandpaper.
This cold felt worse than the ones he had before. Just the act of standing wore him out, and he found himself leaning against the wall, couch, chairs, and table before he was finally able to reach the counter. He felt some bit of relief when he knelt down to grab his kettle from the lower cupboards…
Only to remember just how cluttered, disorganized and dusty it was down there.
The minute he opened the door, stacks of pots, pans, baking sheets, and other kitchen-crap spilled out, with a plume of dust accompanying the impact.
Benatar hacked and coughed, waving away the debris, before looking for the kettle. It was shoved way in the back, and when he pulled it out… a mouse scurried out of it. No surprise, it had crapped inside of it.
The bass player groaned, his head tilting back.
Then he saw the coffee pot on the counter.
…oh, yeah, that can heat up water too…
Shit. This cold must be killing his brain-cells.
Knees shaking, he stood up, reaching over to drop the kettle into the garbage bin (what the hell, he was planning on buying a new one anyway), hobbling over to the coffee pot and filling it with water…
Which was a slow process, as their plumbing wasn’t the best, meaning the water-pressure in the kitchen was pretty low.
Even worse when someone was doing laundry, taking a shower, or just flushed the toilet.
Benatar stared at the tiny trickle of water as it made its pitiful attempt to fill the coffee pot.
As he waited, he leaned against the counter, face rested in one hand. His eyes felt heavy, and he began to dose off…
“So long, losers! I’m off on my date with Tig!” Puff announced as he walked in from the hallway, crossing through the kitchen. He paused, looking at the pots and pans that remained on the floor. “What the---?! Geez, Benatar, you working on a new Martha Stewart crack-project again??”
“Nnngh…” The blonde responded, covering his head with both his hands. “Not s’loud, Puff… got a headache…”
“Whatever. Make sure you have this shit cleaned up--- I might get lucky and bring Tig over for some ‘spicy dessert’, if ya know what I mean!”
‘Spicy dessert makes no sense… and you’re lucky she stays through dinner.’ Benatar wanted to remark, but his pounding head, hoarse throat, and fatigue rendered him with little energy to give a sharp quip.
The most he could do was murmur, “Good luck, mate…” before checking the coffee pot’s progress.
Two inches of water.
Damn.
Puff looked at him a moment, arching an eyebrow. “Dude, what’s up with you? You look more tired than Meemaw when she stays up all night browsing through Facebook---”
Benatar gasped--- and sneezed.
“WAH-CHOOO!”
…accidentally turning in Puff’s direction as he did so, before collapsing on the floor
“YUCK! Oh, gross!” The band leader shouted, wiping his hoodie of the germs that sprayed onto him. “You’re sick?! For fuck’s sake, dude, go quarantine yourself before you start a pandemic! I can’t risk getting the flu before a hot date!”
Puff hurried out of the kitchen. “Great, I need to change my hoodie now. Thanks a lot, Benabitch!”
The blonde could barely respond, his head swimming from the fever plus the bespectacled Martian’s yelling.
He sat on his hands and knees, the only sound being Puff rummaging through the closet before going out the door (despite it was across the other room, he still flinched when it slammed shut), and the trickle of the faucet desperately trying to fill the coffee pot (the echo of the water within the glass cylinder loud enough to be a waterfall).
He let out a moan, once again resting his forehead in his palm, feeling just how hot it was… while the rest of his body felt so… so… cold…
“Ho. Ly. Shit.”
Oh, good.
Another loud voice.
And this one belonged to Axel.
Wonderful.
“Geez, Benatar, you re-organizing the kitchen or something?” The drummer asked as he looked at the mess on the floor.
“Nn… quiet, please… head hurts…” The blonde muttered.
Axel looked at him, doing a double-take as he just now noticed the state the bass-player was in: still in his pajamas, blanket around his shoulders, hair a mess, looking pale and like he’s slowly dying…
“Oh, shit. …Benatar. Please tell me you’re turning into a vampire.”
Benatar shook his head. “…sick.”
“Damn, I was hoping that wasn’t it.” The drummer sighed, looking over at the coffee pot in the sink--- currently less-than-half-full. “Were you making coffee?”
“…just hot water… for tea… mmf.” Benatar leaned against the cabinets. “Sore throat…”
“That sucks.”
Benatar nodded, shutting his eyes and deciding to end the conversation there. No doubt the dark-brunette would want to leave the room and get as far away from the blonde’s germ-infested presence as soon as--- why was he suddenly floating?
He opened his eyes slowly, feeling his body rising from the ground. Did I die? Am I being lifted into the heavens?
It took him a few seconds to register the fact that he was not floating, but had been lifted off the ground… and was being carried out of the kitchen and over to the living room.
By Axel.
…
Shit, how bad was his fever?
“Here, dude. You relax and watch some television. You shouldn’t be moving around when you feel like shit.” The drummer told him as he set him on the couch, before resting a palm on his forehead. “Fuck, you’re hot--- and don’t you dare take that in a gay way! …I’ll be right back. Just lie down, alright?”
Benatar blinked a couple times in confusion. I must be delirious… or Axel is taking this opportunity to prank me in my moment of weakness. He thought.
Axel would never pass up an opportunity to mess with him, especially if he were sick… right?
He paused when he felt something soft, cold and wet drape across his forehead. A washcloth.
“That should help with the fever. Have you taken any Tylenol or anything yet?” Axel asked.
“No…?” The blonde quietly answered.
“’kay, I’ll check the medicine cabinets.” He handed Benatar the remote. “Here, find a movie or something.”
The confusion amplified. Yep. Definitely delusional. Axel isn’t this nice, even when he’s trying to pull a fast one on me.
He sighed, deciding to humor his hallucination and turn on the television, looking through their streaming apps before settling on Tubi and clicking on some random anime show.
After a few minutes, Axel returned with a bottle of ibuprofen and tissue box balanced in one hand, and two mugs of hot tea held in the other. “Here, man. This should help.” He spoke, setting the mugs on the table before handing a couple tablets to Benatar.
The blonde sat up slowly, taking off the washcloth and setting it aside as he put the pills in his mouth; he picked up one of the mugs of tea and took a sip of it to swallow them down… flinching.
“It’s too sweet,” he coughed.
Axel, who was drinking out of the other mug, flinched the moment it reached his lips. “Eck, yeah--- I got ‘em mixed up. This one’s supposed to be yours,” he switched the two mugs.
“Ew, mate… we’ll get each other’s germs…”
“So? You’re already sick, so it’s not like you’re in any real danger.”
“Don’t you have herpes?”
“I got better!”
“That’s not how… oh, bloody hell, never mind.” Benatar lifted up the other mug. “…Why’d you make yourself tea?”
“We’re out of hot chocolate and I wanted something warm to drink.”
“What about coffee?”
“The only can left belongs to DeeJay… and you remember the last time someone took his food without permission.”
The drummer stared ahead, as if having a traumatic flashback.
Benatar blinked slowly. “They… had to pay for it?”
“Exactly!” Axel began to drink his own tea.
Benatar shook his head, before sipping his own, both of them watching the television.
“We can’t drink out of the same bottle!” some girl in the anime was exclaiming.
“Why not?” some guy in the anime chuckled.
The girl blushed. “B-Because it would be an indirect kiss!”
“SSPPPPTTTHHHHH!”
Both men spewed their beverages across the coffee-table, before sharing an awkward look.
“Is that true---?!/No, no, I-I think it’s just a Japanese thing!/Okay, good!/Yeah…” both of them sputtered together.
They decided to leave their mugs on the coffee table for now.
“Wanna watch something else? Sure!” both spoke at once, before Axel took the remote and turned off the anime, switching to an old sitcom instead.
The dark-brunette sat down on the couch next to the blonde, propping his feet up on the table as he got comfortable; the brit, meanwhile, wrapped up in his purple blanket, curling-and-uncurling his toes as he could feel the chill settling in them.
No wonder, as he realized he was barefoot. He stretched out his legs (shivering from the exposure to the open air) to go get some warm socks and his slippers.
It took him a full minute to stand up, and by that point Axel noticed his movement. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“…need my socks and slippers… my feet feel like ice…” Benatar responded with a sniffle.
The drummer stood up, putting a hand to his chest and pushing him back onto the couch--- not really much of a shove, but in his weak state, a simple tap could make the bass-player topple over. “Uh-uh. I told you, no moving around when you’re sick. That’s how zombie apocalypses start,” he firmly stated, before walking off. “I’ll go get them for ya.”
The blonde frowned. “I don’t want anyone going through my stuff…”
Axel rolled his eyes. “Like I give a crap about your stuff. Unless you keep sex toys in your dresser,”
He paused, giving Benatar a curious look.
“Do you?”
The brit scowled. “No.”
“See? Nothing to worry about. Wait here.” The Canadian began walking away, only to turn sharply around and hold his hand back. “STAY. Staaaaaay…. Good boy.”
He then walked out of the living room.
Benatar leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes. I bet he’s going to hide something in my room. Or maybe browse through my closet to see if I have anything embarrassing he can tease me about. Or he might just ‘borrow’ something and won’t remember he took it until I realize it’s gone.
In less than 30 seconds he felt something soft tapping his head, and he opened his eyes to see a pair of clean socks being held up in front of him, along with a pair of slippers.
…or he might actually get me what I need!
“Thank you…?” The blonde responded, unable to hide his confusion.
“You’re welcome?” Axel scoffed with a grin, before sitting back down on the couch, resuming his comfortable position.
Benatar looked at him for a moment, before checking over his socks and slippers to make sure they were safe to wear. He recalled an incident where his friend thought putting itching-powder in his underwear drawer would be hilarious.
But the footwear was clear of any suspicious discrepancies, which left him more confused than relieved.
Meanwhile, the dark-brunette kept watching the television, not at all disturbed of the fact that he was sitting right next to a sick person. He was drinking out of the mug Benatar [first] sipped out of, too.
“Aren’t you worried you’ll get sick?” The blonde asked.
“Nah, colds don’t bother me.” Axel responded, before folding his arms behind his head. “I have a strong immune system ‘n’ shit.”
Benatar thought for a moment. “What if I have pneumonia or covid?”
“Then I will have to kill you.” The drummer rolled his eyes. “Just relax and get some sleep, man. If you’re not better after a week, then we’ll haul you to the doctor and figure out if we need to notify your next of kin or something.”
“Okay, but… how come you’re being so nice to me?”
“Tch, because you’re sick and need someone to take care of you, retard. It would be a dick-move to just leave you to fend for yourself,” Axel gave him a look. “What, you think I’m that big of an asshole?”
Benatar opened and closed his mouth; he didn’t want to make the accusation that the drummer would use his illness as an opportunity to bully his friend. Thinking about it, that would be too low, even for Axel.
But his statement reminded the blonde of how his morning started. “…Puff sure is…” he mumbled, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. “I mean… I guess it was understandable. I accidentally sneezed on him, and he stormed out…”
“That’s what he was griping about?” Axel scoffed, shaking his head. “The way he was acting, you might as well have puked on him.” He reached and rubbed Benatar’s head, speaking in a mock-soothing tone. “Don’t worry, Benababy. Daddy-Axel is here to take good care of you,”
Benatar snorted. “That sounds so wrong taken out of context, mate!”
The drummer flinched, crossing his arms. “That’s it. You’re grounded.”
The brit only chuckled.
…
Once his fever wore off and things fell quiet, the fatigue once again came upon Benatar, as he had trouble keeping his head up. In his exhausted state, he tipped over and leaned against Axel.
“Dude. Personal space?” The drummer scoffed, though didn’t do anything to shove him back.
“Sorry… tired…” The blonde mumbled, but couldn’t bring himself to move. The dark-brunette felt so warm… so comfy…
“You sure you just have a cold?”
“Mmhmm…” He shifted closer to him.
Axel stared at him, wondering why in this fictional world Benatar suddenly felt the need to cozy up to him?
What kind of flu-like virus had infected his friend to the point where he was so okay with this position?
…and why wasn’t the dark-brunette himself pushing him away?
More importantly, why was he leaning back so the blonde could rest more comfortably on him like some sort of body pillow?
(Ooh, YFM body pillows--- that would make great merch.)
“Hey, uh, Ben… You still like girls, right?” Axel chuckled.
“Yeah…” Benatar sleepily answered.
“JUST girls, right?”
“Mm-hmm…”
“Just checking.” Axel looked back towards the television screen.
Okay, so… Benatar was snuggled on top of him, and either the blonde was too delirious to care about the position, or he was mistaking the dark-brunette for a king-sized teddybear.
OR, he found it was okay for guys to cuddle because fuck toxic masculinity, let men hug dammit!
Whatever the reason… it didn’t bother Axel, either.
Maybe he actually caught his friend’s cold and was a little delirious too… or maybe he just didn’t care right now.
Soft breathing came from the blonde, as he had fallen asleep.
The dark-brunette decided to follow his example, closing his eyes.
…
A few minutes later, DeeJay walked out of the bathroom. “Damn, that’s the last time I try the One Chip Challenge to stay warm…” he grunted to himself as he held his stomach.
He paused, looking into the living room and seeing his friends snuggled on the couch.
He blinked a couple times thinking he was hallucinating, before walking back to his room.
“Damn. What did they put in that thing, Orphan Tears?”
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
*SLAM!*
“I can’t fucking believe it! The minute I get the car started, Tig calls me up saying she has to cancel because she caught the flu!” Puff rants the moment he walks in, stomping through the apartment. “How many people are going to get sick around here?! It’s like we’re going through another pande---!”
*doof!*
His rage was interrupted when a throw-pillow impacted his face.
“Shut up, Humbert! Some of us are trying to sleep!” Axel hissed from the couch.
Puff grabbed the cushion, storming over and preparing to smack the drummer with it. “Then allow me to PUT you BACK to sleep---!”
He stopped in his tracks when he got closer, seeing Benatar lying nice and cozy on Axel’s abs, both of them covered by a blanket.
He blinked. “What. The. F---”
“Shh! Don’t wake him up, man.” The dark-brunette patted the blonde’s back when he shifted in his sleep. “This cold-shit hit him like a semi-truck on steroids.”
“Pft!” The band-leader covered his mouth, trying to contain his giggles. “…Okay. Day made.” He took out his phone to take a picture. “I’m not passing this opportunity up!”
Axel glowered. “I WILL kick your ass,”
“Worth it,”
*click*
Puff took a picture--- laughing out loud as he saw Axel managed to flip him the bird at the last second. “This is so going on Insta!”
Axel scowled… before smirking. “Okay, sure. But it’s going to blow up in your face. Chicks think stuff like this is sexy and want in on the cuddling,”
“He speaks the truth!” The authoress exclaimed, randomly walking by with a cup of hot coffee.
Puff: 0_o
The band-leader shook his head. “W-Whatever man! We’ll see if the internet confirms your words!” he posted the pic on his social media.
5 seconds later it started pinging with notifications on the post.
“Alright, let’s see what the verdict is!”
Tig O’Bitties: Awww, cute! <3 Wish I had a man to cuddle right now…
Shitty G: them 2 a thang?
-but damn, u bois r lucky u got someone to cozy up with. im lucky when my gal wants to hold hands!
Wax: LOL Axel’s face! XD
RealGirl: Better not be stealing my man, Axel! Lol jk you two look cute. Keep him warm for me~
DeeJane: Aww, sweet babies~
WG: Cute! (also, Benatar, you lucky son of a---!)
Brock D. Bag: Wow, guys cuddling without any shame? Totally badazz! (not being sarcastic, chicks go wild for this stuff)
-Friendzone Girl: It’s true xD
-WG: Told ya so!
NerdRage: Take a better picture, the quality looks terrible! I can barely tell if that’s Axel and Benatar or someone’s fanart!
Facebook Grandma: Ooooh, see if they’d like some company! <3
-Also, Puff Puff, if you got time to post pictures, you can come shovel my driveway like you said! >:[
Puff blinked, before quickly pocketing his phone. “I, uh… gotta go.” With that, he took off out the door.
On any other day, the drummer would be throwing Benatar off him and chasing the lead-singer out the door to kick his ass two ways from Sunday.
But fortune seemed to favor Puff today, as the dark-brunette was too fatigued from the comfortable position to get up and move. Vengeance would have to wait.
“Note to self, smother Puff in his sleep.” Axel muttered before yawning, tipping his Viking helmet to shield his eyes as he drifted off again.
DeeJay walked back out. Once he was certain that he was indeed seeing what he was seeing, he walked over and pulled the blanket over both his friend’s shoulders.
He looked at his phone, seeing the InstaGram post.
He gave it a heart, before pocketing his phone and walking to the kitchen.
His friends would probably want some soup once they woke up from the cold-driven nap.