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As anyone who spent any significant amount of time in their sleepy little town knew, the Captor apiary was well-known for producing the best honey in the region. Sweet and pure, with a complex range of flavors owing to how carefully the head of the family planted the gardens with all the best flowers for their tens of thousands of honeybees. They’d been in the honey business for generations, so the stories told by town elders went, and while the family dabbled in other ways of making money too, some modest farming and even carpentry, the bees were their pride and joy, honey and mead their primary source of income.
While all the locals—and even some from surrounding cities—turned to Captor honey when they needed to add some sweetness to a dish, it didn’t always make for prosperous living. They got by with few luxuries, living a modest life not unlike many of their neighbors, sharing what they had and accepting friendly favors in return. A practice distinctly separate from charity.
So Sollux thought, tangled in rumpled sheets, feeling wrung-out and thoroughly pathetic. He’d been ill for several days already, so delirious at times that his parents had seen fit to consult the doctor. That in itself would be indignity enough, poked and prodded by an unfamiliar man keen on taking a hefty portion of what little money they had to spare. But his parents didn’t call on the aging imbecile they normally relied on for care. They’d pleaded with the far better doctor in town, a handsome, intelligent young man around Sollux’s own age who’d settled nearby only months earlier. More knowledgeable on the latest medical techniques and far sharper mentally, he commanded a higher price than they could afford. God only knew why he’d moved to a town like theirs instead of a city where he could lead a far more lavish existence with the greater number of patients.
Said man was leaning over him then, brows furrowing together in concern over eyes of the richest blue Sollux had ever seen. He wore a mask over his face, hiding most of the rest of it from view, but as Sollux was wracked with another round of coughing so intense it had him curled in on himself like a shrimp, he could have sworn the doctor was almost smiling at his misery.
“I don’t need you,” he said again, reiterating his argument from before the cough had taken hold of him. “I don’t need your charity. Either I’ll recover or I’ll die, and I’ll do it without you. So get out of here and loom over someone who actually wants your attention.” He scowled. He could feel his bangs hanging limp and greasy over his forehead, his shirt clinging to his back with cold sweat. He was in bad shape; he knew it. Not in any condition to appear intimidating.
“I won’t be doin’ that, Sollux,” the doctor replied congenially, his overly familiar manner only serving to grate on Sollux’s nerves more. He bunched a corner of the sheets in his fist, squeezing tightly. He suspected that was the point. “Your parents asked me to make a house call. The last thing I could do is leave before even conductin’ an exam. And the way I see it, you’re in no state to refuse. Let’s get on with it then, shall we?”
“Do you spend the night with all your house calls?” he asked some time later, trying not to grimace too obviously at the raspy sound of his own voice, incontrovertible proof of how raw his throat was and how miserable he felt. The doctor—Eridan, he refused to call him Dr. Ampora—had finished examining him and given him some medicine, at which point Sollux expected to be left in peace. But there he still was, what must have been an hour later, lingering in the germ-filled miasma of Sollux’s bedroom.
He sat at the foot of the bed, posture straight and shoulders back with military poise. Sollux kicked weakly at the side of his thigh, trying to push him away or urge him to get up. Through the blankets and the fine wool of the doctor’s trousers, he could have been any solid shape. No human warmth at all, making it easier for him to act like a nuisance.
“When it’s necessary, yes. Patients who need monitoring aren’t always stable enough to be moved, and in those cases, I will stay until they’re stable enough to be supervised by a family member or to be transported. It’s all part of the job.”
“I’m not that bad off. I’m not dying. Doubt my parents paid you enough to stay here all night anyway.” He closed his eyes and curled in tighter on himself, trying to fight off another chill, only to be met with the feeling of a hand against his shoulder.
“You don’t need to worry about the payment. I’m doin’ this because I want to. Your family’s busy, they can’t tend to you every hour. And anyhow, you’ve always interested me. Since that day you and your brother were sent over to welcome me to town. You were the most charmin’ thin’, all grouchy and so, so perceptive. I wanted to learn everythin’ about you, and I was convinced you could tell how fascinated I was. You didn’t let anythin’ slip though, small talk only until your brother was impatient and ready to go. You left with him and I thought about you all night long.” Sollux’s eyes were still screwed shut, missing whatever expression Eridan was making, but he heard the soft sigh, as if just the memory of that interaction still brought him pleasure.
After choking out another weak cough, he reluctantly opened his eyes so that he could sit up and grasp for the glass of water at his bedside. Eridan scooted closer to him on the bed, overlapping a chilly hand atop his own to help him drink. It was mortifying. The cold of his hand, and of the rings stacked on every finger, felt good alongside the cool water, and that was enough for him not to protest as he drank his fill. The moment he parted the glass from his lips, Eridan took it from him to refill and set aside, allowing him to lay back down right away.
“It would’ve been... inappropriate for me to be alone with you. My parents would’ve been angry,” he said with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “People would’ve talked, and they hate that.” Despite the exhaustion his sickness had wrought on him, a smile crept across his face as he added, “Equally inappropriate for you to admit to thinking of me all night alone.”
Eridan’s face reddened, color spreading over his sharp cheekbones and all the way to the tips of his ears.
“Yes, well, I certainly didn’t mean any offense. And, er, for the record, I don’t subscribe to notions like that. You’re just as entitled to keep my company as your brother is.”
“But no comment on what sorts of thoughts you were having about me? I’ll keep that in mind.” Never let it be said that he wouldn’t seize any opportunity to be a bit of a little shit with someone who could so easily get under his skin in return, even when he was feeling sick. It was a necessary survival skill to learn growing up with a brother like Mituna, but he had to admit, he liked using it on Eridan much more.
“That’s not—” Eridan sputtered in disbelief, the red tint to his skin going downright scarlet. Sollux started to reach out, inhibitions lowered by his fever. He wanted to know whether Eridan was blushing hard enough to feel warmer than him. Only when the palm of his hand was pressed flush to the doctor’s cheek did the full extent of what he’d done wash over him. Eridan was awfully hot though. He took his hand back, just in time for Eridan’s flustered excuses to continue spilling out. “I would never— I’m a professional and frankly I resent the mere insinuation that I’d do anythin’ like what you’re tryin’ to suggest. With a patient? I couldn’t.”
“I wasn’t your patient then,” he pointed out, hand still a little extra warm from Eridan’s face. He curled his fingers in the sheets again, trying to rid himself of the feeling. It felt good, but as long as nothing more could come of it, holding onto that feeling was only going to make him lonely. “And if you’re going to think of it that way, doesn’t that make the majority of the town off-limits to you?”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I didn’t come here to argue with you, Sol. You need your rest.” As if copying the way Sollux had reached out to him moments before, he extended a hand and brushed Sollux’s bangs away from his forehead, checking his temperature with the back of his hand. Sollux reached up to grasp his wrist, keeping him there.
“Feels good,” he murmured in explanation before being asked. It was cool, unlike his face. He thumbed over Eridan’s pulse and tried to count the beats, but quickly lost focus, swallowing rapidly in a doomed effort to avoid coughing again.
When he’d recovered from it, Eridan was still stroking his forehead and hair, more like a loved one than a doctor. “You oughta close your eyes and rest. You need it. I can read to you if you’d like.”
Weakly murmuring his assent felt like a shame when it meant the retreat of that chilly hand from his head and the mattress creaking with Eridan’s rise. But it only took a few moments for him to pluck a book from Sollux’s shelf and return, mattress dipping in a different way than before. Sollux realized then that he’d obeyed and closed his eyes without truly meaning to, touch alone telling him that the doctor was no longer sitting at the foot of his bed but laying down next to him, close enough to cuddle into for comfort.
Sollux clung to him like a teddy bear, eyes shut tight, and from a familiar storybook from his childhood, Eridan began to read aloud.
“You seem to be doin’ a little better today,” Eridan said the next morning after taking his temperature, wiping down the tip of the thermometer as he spoke. “Your fever’s down a little, though that cough still sounds nasty.” He tutted softly in sympathy, tucking the thermometer away once it had been cleaned. Sollux grabbed for his water right away, eager for a drink now that he didn’t need to keep the temperature of his mouth unaltered for an accurate temperature reading. The awful, bitter taste of medicine still clung to his tongue.
“Isn’t sleep supposed to be essential for healing?” he grumbled once he’d gotten rid of the worst of the aftertaste. “Waking me up every couple of hours for medicine and temperature checks seems counterproductive.”
“I’m the doctor here, last I checked. Went to school for it and everythin’, which I occasionally suspect is more than the town’s other physician can say for himself. So how about you let me worry about what’s counterproductive and focus on bein’ a good patient for me, hmm? The sooner you’re not an active patient anymore, the sooner we can see about makin’ you into somethin’ else.” That last statement was accompanied by a conspiratorial little smile, Eridan’s voice lowered just in case one of his family members might be passing by in the hall.
Sollux sat up a little straighter, aiming for nonchalance. “I suppose I can try.” Distantly, he could hear the creaking of floorboards, probably Mituna wandering around. They’d not been disturbed at all that he knew of, something that seemed impressive regardless of his illness. “I’m surprised my parents haven’t given you a hard time at all about staying in here with me.”
“They trust in my professionalism, I suppose. Means I can’t betray that trust.” Eridan leaned in, pressing a cool, dry kiss to his forehead. “They’d never allow me to live it down, and I much prefer bein’ allowed around you without too much scrutiny.”
“Good thing I’m the only one who knows just how unprofessional you can be.”
“Good thing indeed. But sittin’ around in here and lettin’ you tease me all day wouldn’t be a very good showin’ for me as a doctor. Now that you’re a little stronger than you have been, we’re gettin’ you outside today. Fresh air helps with the healin’ process, and from what I overheard at breakfast this mornin’, your mother’s awfully keen to get in here and do some cleanin’.” Eridan locked their fingers together loosely, playing with them, and Sollux wondered why he wasn’t worried about catching the ghastly flu that had rendered him so miserable. Doctor or not, he was no more immune to illness than any other person.
“Outside?” he whined. Just to really get his point across, he was careful to make his voice as obnoxious as he could and drag the word out until he felt he was right on the verge of another coughing fit, then silenced himself with another sip of cold water. “What good is that? Even the bees are still hibernating at this time of year. It’s not warm enough yet.”
“It’s warm enough that you’ll be just fine in proper clothes. You’re at no risk of catchin’ cold on top of what you’ve already got,” Eridan promised, no nonsense. “The fresh air is useful.”
“I don’t get much fresh air even when I’m well. It’s never been a problem for me so far.” He crossed his arms, never mind the fact that it required taking his hand away from Eridan’s. It was worth making a point. Holding hands with the handsome, charming doctor could be done after he had a sufficient chance to protest going out in the early spring chill. Not least because just the prospect of getting washed up and dressed to venture out there seemed like a massive obstacle. Later on, he was bound to be embarrassed about how long Eridan must have spent looking at him all sweaty and pajama-clad.
Eridan just stared at him. It went on until he was forced to break the silence again himself with an indignant little what?, annoyed to have been beaten at his own game.
“I thought you agreed that you were goin’ to be a good patient for me today. That means you gotta do what I say instead of tryin’ so hard to be insubordinate and get your own way.” He leaned in a little closer again, but didn’t take his hand or kiss his head, none of the little shows of affection that Sollux was just starting to learn to expect. He just continued to speak in a soft, dark tone that buried itself somewhere deep inside him. “Do you want to get a reward or do you want to be punished?”
“Fuck, you’ve got an unfair advantage when you can talk to me like that,” Sollux grumbled, wishing he knew how to master the same sultry, simmering tone. There was no point in further protest. However much Eridan seemed to like him being whiny and difficult, he was wary of crossing the line into becoming genuinely aggravating, or worse, childish. He would be getting his fresh air whether he liked it or not.
“See?” Eridan cooed right in his ear, breath warm against his neck. Sollux imagined he could feel it slithering down past the collar of his shirt, straight to his heart. “Isn’t this worth the effort it took to get yourself ready? Everythin’ is on the verge of bloomin’ and burstin’ into life again. You can feel it, can’t you? That spring is on its way.”
Sollux frowned and took a deep breath of cold, damp air. He was bundled in layers, both a thickly knit sweater and a wool coat over his shirt, but he could still feel the chill. His hands were quickly growing cold, but he made no move to retrieve his gloves from his coat pocket. He didn’t want anything separating him from Eridan, and when he snuck his hand back to find his, it turned out he wasn’t the only one with that idea. The bare skin he met was just as chilled as his own if not more, but he squeezed tight, sidling a little closer in an attempt to hide them from any prying eyes.
“I don’t know. Maybe? I think I spend too much time inside to have those kinds of senses.” If he concentrated extra hard, maybe he could pick up on it a little, the edge of the winter wind softening in a way that suggested further thaw to come, but he’d rather concentrate on Eridan. He let himself press into his side for just a second, long enough to feel the way the doctor tensed in surprise, then straightened back up.
“Let’s go sit down,” he continued before he could be confronted with a lecture on how he should spend more time out of his room. He heard enough of that from his parents. Tugging gently on Eridan’s hand and doing a poor job of suppressing a cough, he led the way over to a finely carved stone bench in the shadow of a few trees. It looked fairly dry, enough that they wouldn’t soak their pants by sitting down on it, and it had a nice view of some of the hives, still quiet and closed up for winter while the bees huddled together to stay warm.
Sure enough, the stone was cold but only slightly damp. Still, he took the excuse to curl closely into Eridan’s side, entirely disregarding his illness and any germs he might be passing on with the proximity. If he was to infect Eridan with this infernal virus, it was likely already determined by the time they’d spent closed up in his room together. A bit of cuddling outdoors in the fresh air was probably safer than that.
Eridan, not bothering to hide it, cast a glance back in the direction of the house. Behind his glasses, Sollux watched his eyes travel from the front door to each visible window, checking all of them for any signs of an audience behind.
“It’s fine,” he said when he grew tired of playing observer to his hyper-vigilance, pretending he couldn’t be just as paranoid in the right mood. “No one’s watching. If they are, you can always make the excuse that I’m so weak I need help sitting upright. They’d surely accept it, muttering to themselves the whole time about how frail I’ve always been.”
“Frail you might be, but I daresay I know why,” Eridan replied, a hint of mischief in his voice as he tugged gently at a pitch black lock of Sollux’s hair. “All that energy is bein’ directed to your brain, fuck everythin’ else. Hell, it might get so big it bursts your skull open.”
Sollux snorted with laughter, tipping his head back and off to the side, so it would land even more securely against the hand carding through his hair. He seldom let anyone touch him with such familiarity, but from Eridan, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“How graphic. Should a doctor really be fantasizing about my violent death so openly?”
“You’d rather I do it in secret?” He felt more than heard Eridan’s laughter, coming as it did with a soft kiss to the crown of his head.
“I’d rather you not mock me at all while I’m already so miserable convalescing,” he grumbled in mock anger, tilting his head further and chomping his teeth in the suggestion of a bite. Naturally, that only made Eridan laugh some more, but no further taunts were incoming. Their mutual good humor soon faded into a companionable quiet, one that Sollux could tell would last until he eventually grew cold and uncomfortable enough to urge Eridan back inside.
Though he still felt miserable, raw throat, aching chest, and all, he found that he felt a bit lighter with thoughts of what would be awaiting him when he recovered. If Eridan was willing, however hesitantly, to risk a scandal in the name of pursuing the spark of attraction growing between them, so was he. It would be the most exciting thing to grace their sleepy village in a long time.