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Pete hates having a blocked and runny nose. He hates not being able to move without feeling like throwing up. He hates the dry feeling in his throat. He hates all of them so much. He hates the flu.
"I hate the flu."
Patrick chuckles and rakes his fingers through Pete's hair, massaging the scalp. Pete hums contentedly at the contact, but it breaks off into a coughing fit halfway. Patrick immediately springs into action, rubbing Pete's back until the coughing subsides.
Pete then feels Patrick's hand on his forehead. "You're warming up. You're sweating through your shirt, too." Patrick says, voice tinged with worry.
"Think you can get up and shower?" Patrick asks, forehead creased in concern. Pete tries to move his body, but groans out when he feels a rush of nausea.
He sighs as Patrick's cool arms are wrapped around him, helping him up and off the bed. "Okay, big boy. Let's get you into the bath." Patrick teases him.
"Together?" Pete flutters his lashes, grinning and nosing along Patrick's cheek, only to sneeze afterwards. Patrick pulls away immediately with a disgusted groan. "Gross!"
"In sickness and in health, remember?" Pete laughs when Patrick rolls his eyes at him, but soon groans again when his head starts to feel heavy.
Patrick doesn't join him in the bath, but he does help Pete take his clothes off. Once Pete's in the tub, he closes his eyes at the feeling of warm water against his skin. Patrick begins to wash him, lathering bubbles of soap on him with gentle touches.
Even though Patrick's not in the bath with him, Pete's not complaining. He loves being pampered by his husband, loves having Patrick's attention all to himself, even before when they're just touring around in an old, battered van.
Pete wrinkles his nose and sniffs, then shoots Patrick a quizzical look when he notices his frown. "What?"
"You're not about to sneeze again, are you?" Patrick looks at him in suspicion, leaning away from Pete in case he got sneezed on. Pete pouts and drags Patrick close by his shirt, effectively making his shirt wet. "I'll give you a heads up if I feel like sneezing, okay? Now, get back here."
Patrick, still a little hesitant, gives in with a nod. He continues to wash Pete's hair, pouring shampoo and massaging his scalp. He hums a song under his breath, and a small, content smile makes its way on Pete's face.
When Patrick leans in to rinse his hair, Pete holds his breath, biting his lip. He can feel a sneeze coming, but he doesn't have the time to warn Patrick when the latter starts to pour water over him, placing one hand over Pete's eyes so the shampoo doesn't get into his eyes.
He can't hold the sneeze in any longer, and without warning, he rips out one giant sneeze, startling Patrick and causing him to fall backwards on his butt, the plastic dipper full of water spilled all over the front of his shirt and pants, some splashed over his face as well.
Pete sniffs and wipes his nose, grinning innocently at Patrick's angry glare. "I've said it once, and I'm saying it again. Gross."
Patrick returns to his previous task and chides Pete the entire time about sneezing on other people. Pete, meanwhile, is still feeling high from Patrick's undivided attention. To him, getting an angry rant is worth the attention Patrick's giving him.
"Say yeah,
Let's be gross together"
Pete doesn't know where he has the energy to be this cheeky while having the flu, but the stifled smile on Patrick's face works wonders on Pete.
When they're finally done, Patrick dresses him up and tucks him to bed. Pete can't help but feel a little sad; now he'll be left all alone while Patrick tends to their kids.
"Get some rest," Patrick whispers, smiling and leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. "I love you."
Pete falls asleep with a smile anyway. He knows Patrick will be there with him when he wakes up.
-
Everything seems to be a hundred times worse for Pete from then on. His head is pounding, muscles aching and sore, nose stuffed. But Patrick's presence next to him makes him feel better slightly.
He's sitting up on the bed, back against the headboard as Patrick feeds him what he assumes is porridge. His sense of smell is long gone, along with his sense of taste. Pete shakes his head once he feels full.
Patrick places the bowl on the nightstand and holds a glass of water for Pete to drink. Pete doesn't even have the energy to hold himself upright -or open his eyes, for that matter- but Patrick has promised him that he can sleep after he's eaten.
He swallows the pill Patrick hands him and finishes the rest of the water before lying down. He sighs in content when Patrick pulls up the blanket for him.
Pete barely notices Patrick leaving the room after that, but he continues to close his eyes anyway, wanting to sleep so he can get away from the sufferings for a while.
"Daaaaaad!"
Pete blinks at the voice, then tilts his head to look at the source of the voice, seeing his three kids by the doorway. "B…?" He asks, sluggish from the medicine Patrick gave him. "What is it?"
Bronx has a grin on his face as he waves a book in his hand, and Pete has to squint his eyes to see what kind of book it is. He furrows his brows when he finds it to be a children's story book.
"You can read that to Saint and Declan yourself, B. You already know how to read," Pete mumbles, his words slurred together. He's too drowsy to even care.
"It's not for them, Dad." Bronx cheekily replies. Pete glances back at them, confused. "What?"
"Dad!" Declan giggles, almost falling over if it weren't for Bronx holding him. "For Dad!" Saint joins in, beaming wide at his father.
"You always read to us before bed or when we're sick. So now we're reading to you." Bronx puffs out his chest and enters the room, both of his hands holding Saint and Declan on each side.
Pete doesn't know if it's the medicine or the bug that makes him want to tear up at his son's words, but he finally does tear up, albeit slightly. Love and pride bloom in his chest at his family. First, Patrick. And now, their kids. Pete has never felt so much love before. He's overwhelmed, even. Oh, how he wishes he can turn back time and tell his younger self that things do get better. He loves hard, and he's loved just equally as hard in return.
Bronx heaves both of the younger kids onto the bed, who then proceed to crawl to Pete's side. Saint lays his head on Pete's chest, and Declan sits next to Bronx, peering over to look at the colouful pictures in the book, his eyes wide in fascination.
"Okay, so," Bronx clears his throat and opens the book. "The animals that live on a farm all make special sounds…"
He flips onto the next page, taking a deep breath. "On the farm, there is a horse that goes-" he makes a neighing sound, imitating a horse, and is joined by Declan. "-and gallops around. Horses are fun to ride."
Bronx continues to read as Declan follows whatever sounds the elder boy is making, and Saint letting out 'ooh's and 'ah's every now and then. Being read to reminds Pete of his childhood and the time when his kids begged him to read them bedtime story.
It's soothing and calming just to hear their voices. When his parents read to him, he felt safe. When Patrick sings to him, he feels calm. Now, as their kids are reading to him, Pete feels loved.
Pete doesn't remember when he falls asleep after that, but he does remember receiving three soft kisses to his forehead and a hushed 'Get well soon, Dad'.
-
When he wakes up a few hours later, Patrick is sitting on the bed next to him, fingers carding through Pete's hair while reading a book. Pete tilts his head, catching Patrick's attention.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" Patrick smiles softly at him, putting his book down. Pete lets out a small groan. His head feels heavy, his body aches all over, and breathing seems like a chore. He wheezes slightly before closing his eyes, giving up talking altogether. As much as he loves all the attention he's been receiving, the suffering isn't worth it.
Patrick places his hand on Pete's forehead, checking for temperature, and Pete sighs at the cool contact. It's not fair that he gets sick. He's a healthy man. He works out and eats healthy food- if anyone asks him, pizza is the healthiest food out there. So, he shouldn't be having the flu.
But he does, and Pete hates it.
"Well, your fever's gone down a little. I'll go heat up something, then give you some pills. You should be fine sometime soon." Patrick makes a motion to get out of bed, and Pete's hand instantly reaches out to grab him. "Stay," he croaks out, his throat feeling too dry.
"I won't be gone too long, Pete." Patrick gently pries his hand from his shirt, "I'll be back with something to eat and drink, then I'll stay for as long as you want."
Pete slowly cracks his eyes open, wincing at the burning feeling around his eyes. "F- forever?"
"Yes, Pete. I'll stay forever." Patrick gives him one last smile before standing up to go to the kitchen. Pete closes his eyes and huffs out a laugh, then rolls over to Patrick's side of bed, inhaling the scent left behind.
It's more than enough to keep him company for ten minutes until Patrick comes back and drowns him with all his love and attention until he gets better.
-
Pete couldn't be any happier when his flu is finally and completely gone a few days later. He wakes up with a huge grin stretched wide on his face. He can finally breathe normally again!
He turns to lie on his side and kisses Patrick's nose, watching in adoration as the younger man wrinkle his nose before opening his eyes. "Wha…?"
Pete grins and starts to plant kisses on every inch of Patrick's face, clearly missing after a few of days of not being able to kiss him. When he pulls away, Patrick still has a sleepy look on his face, not fully awake yet.
He leans in again for a proper kiss- morning breath be damned. He misses this.
Before he can deepen the kiss, he's more than surprised when Patrick sneezed in his face. They break the kiss, and Pete stares with wide eyes as Patrick rubs his nose, sniffing.
"You sneezed." Pete states slowly. "In my face."
"Like you haven't done that to me before." Patrick rolls his eyes exasperatedly. Pete is about to retort with something when Patrick lets out a chesty cough. He quickly props Patrick up against the headboard and hands him a bottle of water that they always keep by the bedside, in case either of them gets thirsty in the middle of the night and is too lazy to go to the kitchen.
Patrick drinks half the bottle and gives the bottle back to Pete, sniffing twice before groaning in frustration. "Stupid blocked nose."
Pete stifles a smile and lays Patrick back down on the bed, then checks his temperature. "Well, you're getting pretty warm. I think you're catching the flu."
Patrick doesn't say anything in return; his eyes are already closed, dozing off. Pete smiles and drops a kiss on his forehead. "Thanks for taking care of me, 'Trick. I love you."
A high-pitched wail echoes in the house followed by another. Patrick's eyes quickly snaps open at the noises, and he struggles to get to their kids. Pete gently tugs him back, stopping him.
"The kids," Patrick coughs out, and Pete finally notices the redness in Patrick's eyes. He gives the younger man a comforting smile. "Get some rest. I'll take care of the kids."
Patrick looks hesitant for a moment, but soon nods and lies down. Pete waits until Patrick has closed his eyes before getting out of bed slowly so as to not wake him up. He leans over to Patrick and gives him another soft kiss. "And I'll take care of you, too."