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“Dan.”
Phil’s voice is hoarse and raspy from where he’s curled up under the blankets, feeling another chill run up his spine. His whole body shudders at the feeling, and he’s coughing again, this horrible, deep sounding thing that makes his chest vibrate-
“Dan.” He croaks out weakly, and suddenly he's there.
“I got you your tea, relax. And yes, I added plenty of honey.”
Before Phil can respond, his brain suddenly catches fire, and it travels through him, the sweat feeling like it’s boiling on his face. “Off-ger’off-”
He can’t fling the blankets over the side of the couch fast enough, slumping down where he sits to try to catch some of the fan’s cool air.
“Oi, watch it!” Dan warns as he flails his arms a bit to get off the thick sweater he’s wearing and has subsequently tugged off about twenty times in the past hour-though time has gone funny since he got sick, sometimes he closes his eyes and feels his brain go all wobbly and he wakes up and it’s suddenly a lot lighter or darker than it was seemingly moments before.
The horrid thing is finally off, though, but Phil wants to take off his shirt, too, hating the sweat-damp fabric and how the back of his neck feels prickly and how everything’s spinning around him suddenly, so fast that he has to cling to the couch-
Dan’s grumbling now, because Phil knocked into the mug and tea is running down his hand. “Stinky baby.” He chided with gritted teeth, putting the mug down on the coaster as he watches Phil with a strange look. “Have you taken the meds I grabbed-”
“Doesn’t work. Keep gettin’ hot and cold.” Phil’s voice sounds far away, and something rises in his throat as he speaks.
“Well, maybe it’s time we take you down to the clinic, see if we can get you-”
“Don’t want to get in an Uber.”
“We could-”
“I want to stay home.”
“Yeah, I get that, but-”
“I want to stay home!”
Phil’s not a yeller-never has been, even as a kid, he’s more of the quiet type. He’s not even sure where that came from, that high, nearly shrieky wail, but Dan’s frozen to the spot and his throat hurts now, and the chills are coming back and everything’s shaky and why are his eyes blurry if he has his glasses on?
He doesn’t realize it until he feels the wetness on his cheeks-oh. He’s crying.
“I’m sorry-” He hiccups, and then coughs, grabbing a tissue as some phlegm comes up as well, and it feels so bad that he’s crying harder, tugging the blanket back to him.
Dan looks properly frightened now. He’s the one usually having the big, grandiose meltdowns, while Phil just sits in the corner looking silently panicked, but this fever has him all out of sorts.
“I’m sorry I’m sick all the time-” Another coughing fit, as if to prove his point. “And I’m sorry I’m whiney and everything sucks and it’s our first week back and you’re taking care of me and that I broke my rib and that I’m a useless-”
But then he’s doubled over, coughing so hard it hurts his ears, and he’s crying, snot dripping from his nose and a sour taste in his mouth as he whimpers out apology after apology.
“Please shut up.” Dan says, so earnestly, and it works-it shocks Phil back to his senses enough that the tears start to slow down, and he has a moment to feel ashamed at how gross he is right now.
“Er-sorry. Not shut up-I’m not good at this with you, you know that.” Dan forces a weak smile as he hands Phil the tissue box, and he frantically tries to clean himself up as much as he can with shaking hands. “I mean…what can I say? I love you. And you’re not useless. And I like taking care of you, even if you are sick all the time.”
Phil can’t help but hack out a laugh at that, closing his eyes for a moment.
Dan sounds a little less uncomfortable as he continues on, and Phil fights himself to stay awake to hear it.
“You’re not useless, okay? Not in the slightest. Bub, if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have even gone on this tour. I’d still be chasing after YouTube for that stupid show they were never going to give me.”
Phil forces himself to peek over at him just to see Dan raise his eyebrows.
“Let me take care of you. That might mean going to the clinic, I gotta warn you-” Phil weakly lets out a noise of protest at that, but lets Dan sit next to him, slipping his legs under his head-”But we’ll talk to that when you get a bit more rest, okay?”
His hands move to his forehead, big and warm and reassuring. Bear paws, his mind constructs, and he can’t help but giggle at the thought in spite of the awful shivers crawling up his skin.
“What’s so funny?” Dan murmurs, but then he starts humming softly, and his legs are so soft…
“Nuttin’.” Phil’s starting to feel a bit floaty now, and he tries to open his eyes, but everything is so cold but Dan and it feels so nice to have them shut-
“Jus’ love you.” He gets out finally, mouth feeling thick and heavy.
Even with his eyes closed, he swears he can see Dan roll his eyes, shaking his head with that fond look he wears so well.
“Love you too, idiot.”