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Waxer did not like to be sick. He maintained that he was always a less grumpy invalid than Boil, no matter what anyone said. Even if anyone included their entire squad and all of the medics.
Still, he thought he was perfectly justified in being specific about what kind of snacks he had when he was sick. It was hard enough to eat as it was, so he didn’t want to eat subpar snacks. So when he peered into his perfectly-reasonably sized snack stash and found that there were neither pudding cups nor any of the coveted star shaped gummies that tasted like everything that was good about the galaxy, he was greatly put out.
Waxer made a disgruntled noise and after a moment Boil peered up at him from his bunk.
“Everything okay?” He sounded tired and Waxer felt the smallest twinge of guilt for bothering him. But only a little bit.
“I don’t have any snacks.” Waxer informed him. He held his snack stash out plaintively.
“You look like you have plenty of snacks to me.” Boil said, reaching up and poking the snack stash. It swung and Waxer made sure he had a firm grip on it, his fingers weak with fever. If his snacks hit the floor they would be free game for the rest of the squad, and while Waxer was always willing to share (usually), there were a few things he was keeping for himself. And a few things that he wanted to save as gifts for Boil.
Waxer made a valiant attempt to raise his eyebrows in the effortless way that vod’e like Boil and Cody did. Boil snorted.
“I am without proper snacks.” Waxer said primly, and Boil nodded in what Waxer was pretty sure was mock sympathy.
“No pudding?” He asked, and Waxer nodded.
“My poor throat goes unsoothed.”
“You poor thing.” Boil got up, swinging onto the ladder so he could press a kiss to Waxer’s forehead, tucking the snack stash back into Waxer’s cubby at his head as he did so. “Don’t melt your chocolate cuddling your snacks. Would apple sauce be an acceptable substitute if I can’t find any pudding?”
“I suppose.” Waxer sighed, trying to suggest how very put upon he was by the suggestion of Boil’s favourite illness snack. He was sick and he deserved all of his partner’s sympathy. Boil chuckled and pressed another kiss to his forehead.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He pressed a package into Waxer’s hand and then vanished.
Waxer dozed for a bit, idly contemplating the meltability of chocolate. What they got in their MREs was usually either powdered or basically only meltable at boiling point, intended to be used for drinks. The block chocolate could also be held in your mouth to melt slowly over a long march, though some tended to just crunch it.
The chocolate that was in his stash was mainly natborn chocolate, and that melted easier. Which they had found out the hard way.
“…pudding?” Waxer made an affirmative noise, still only half awake, and then flushed, realizing it must have been a longer question, as he cracked his eyes open to see Boil on the ladder once more.
Boil smiled, small and soft and fond, and Waxer flushed further.
“You fall asleep?” He asked, and Waxer nodded. He hadn’t noticed falling asleep, but he hadn’t noticed Boil coming back either, so he must have. “You didn’t even eat your snack.”
“What?” As he said it Waxer remembered the foil package Boil had tucked into his hand before he left. He brought his hand up, package still clutched in it, and found that Boil had given him some of the star gummies. Force only knew where he had found them or how long he had been saving them.
Waxer glanced back up at Boil, who had that secret fondness crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“Have some pudding and some water and then you can go back to sleep.” Boil said, and Waxer pouted at him.
“But you got me star gummies! How can I let such a gift languish in the snack stash?”
“The same way you let them languish in your bed I imagine.” Boil said, expertly raising a single eyebrow. Exhaustion tightened his mouth again.
“Mean to me!” Waxer pouted more. “How dare you?”
“So mean.” Boil agreed with a sigh. He gently wiggled the package out of Waxer’s hand, Waxer’s fever-weakened grip giving away despite his best efforts. “Eat your pudding.”
Waxer ate his pudding with minimal complaints, Boil popping up to sit on the edge of his bunk and keep him company as he did so. Not that Waxer wanted the company of such a betrayer.
But Boil’s hand in the fuzz of his unshaved hair felt nice, so he only whined a little bit. Then he drank the hydropak and the juicepak that Boil produced for him, and pulled his blanket back over himself resolutely.
“I’m ignoring you.” He informed Boil.
“Okay.” Boil said, and he sounded far too amused. He kissed Waxer on the forehead again and then dropped off of the bunk.
Waxer curled around the hot water bottle he had been lent by the medics and found that it was cold.
“Boooooiiiiiiillllll.” Waxer whined. Boil grumbled something from below him and peered back up again. “The water bottle is cold….”
“Here.” Boil thrust his hand up and Waxer passed the hot water bottle to him. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Waxer fell asleep again before Boil got back. He barely felt Boil climb back up the ladder to tuck the hot water bottle behind his shoulders, where he always ached from an old old training wound. But he felt the warmth.