Work Text:
“Cameron, I’m dying.” Cameron Frye rolled his eyes at the voice on the other side of the door to his dorm room.
“What do you want, Ferris? I’m studying.”
“It can wait. I’m dying.”
Cameron marked his page and put the textbook down on his desk. He had a moment to wonder what kind of stunt Ferris was about to pull before the door opened.
Ferris actually looked like he was dying. His hair was tousled and tangled, his eyes dull and ringed with dark circles, his cheeks way too pink. Cameron had never seen Ferris look this miserable.
“What happened to you?”
“I told you.”
“You’re dying, I know. From what?”
“How am I supposed to know? I’m not pre-med.” Ferris dragged himself past Cameron and toward his bottom bunk. Cameron grabbed his shirt collar.
“Oh no, you don’t. If you’re dying, don’t spread your germs all through my bed.”
“Have you no sense of decency? I feel awful.”
“You walked here, didn’t you?” Cameron retorted. Out of curiosity, felt the back of Ferris’ neck with the hand that had held his collar. “But you do feel pretty hot.”
“Cameron, baby, don’t flatter me. I need your expertise.”
“In what?”
“In what’s wrong with me. You’ve been sick enough to know.”
Ferris climbed to his top bunk and threw himself facedown on the bed.
Cameron stood on the ladder. “When did you start feeling sick?”
“This morning a little. But then it really hit me during History.”
“And describe your symptoms.”
“Ugh.”
“Come on, Ferris, I need something to work with here.”
“Head hurts. Lights are too bright.”
“Well, that’s a start, but it just sounds like a hangover.”
“Not hungover. My head really hurts. Like right behind my eyes.”
“Sharp or dull pain?”
“Sharp.” Cameron sighed in sympathy.
“Anything else?”
“It feels like the Arctic.”
“Fever and chills,” Cameron interpreted.
“My back is killing me.”
“Your muscles are achy.”
"So what’s wrong with me? I’m probably dying of some rare tropical disease with no cure,” Ferris proclaimed.
“It’s just whatever germ is is going around campus right now. You’ll be fine. Of course, I’ll get sick, too.” Cameron muttered the last sentence.
“So I just lay here and be miserable, then?”
“Yep. That’s all you can do. I’ll get you some Tylenol, though.”
-----------------
“Cameron?” Ferris whined.
“What?” Cameron groaned.
“Do you have any more Tylenol?”
“You just took it an hour ago. No.”
“I feel too hot.”
“I know. Stop complaining about it.”
“Ugh.”
Cameron’s voice softened. “I’ll be right back.”
Soon, Cameron was climbing up the bunk bed ladder. Ferris sighed in relief as a cool weight settled on his forehead and over his eyes.
“Figured you wouldn’t mind a cold washcloth.”
“Cameron, baby, you know me so well.”