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Henry traced lazy patterns on the back of Alex's hand, the rhythmic motion a comforting background to the quiet Sunday afternoon. Alex's head rested in Henry’s lap, a comfortable silence settling between them.
"Alex," Henry began, his voice soft, "Are you alright, darling?"
There was no response, only the steady rhythm of Alex's breathing. Henry looked down. Alex's eyes were closed, his usually vibrant face pale and unusually still. A frown creased Henry's brow. Alex was never this quiet, especially not when they had a free afternoon together.
"Alex?" Henry repeated, a hint of concern creeping into his voice. He gently nudged Alex's shoulder. "Love?"
Alex stirred, his eyelids fluttering open. His eyes looked glassy and unfocused. "Hmm?" he mumbled, his voice raspy.
"You seem rather subdued," Henry said, his hand moving to Alex's forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Fine," Alex mumbled, turning his head slightly. "Just…tired. Big barbeque on Friday, remember? Think I overdid it."
Henry hesitated. The barbeque had been lively, but Alex was usually the life of the party, not someone who would be laid out by it days later. Something felt off.
"Are you sure that's all?" Henry persisted, a growing worry knotting in his stomach. Alex’s stillness was deeply unsettling.
"Yeah, yeah, all good," Alex insisted, though his voice was scratchy and lacked its usual conviction. "Just need a nap."
Henry studied him, unconvinced. Alex’s skin felt warm to the touch, an unsettling heat that wasn't simply the afternoon sun. "Let me check your temperature," he said gently, rising from the couch and heading towards the medicine cabinet.
Alex grumbled in protest, but Henry ignored him, returning with the thermometer. "Just humor me," he said softly, and gently ran the thermometer across Alex’s forehead.
The reading confirmed Henry’s suspicion. 101.9 glowed from the small screen. "Alex," he said, his voice firm yet loving, "You're burning up."
Alex squinted at the thermometer, then tried to brush it off. "Not bad…could just be the room," he muttered, but the lame excuse did nothing to hide his discomfort, nor to convince Henry.
"No, darling," Henry replied, his voice softening, "You have a fever. You're ill."
Alex finally relented, a slight shiver wracking his body. "Okay, maybe a little," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he snuggled back against Henry’s warmth, nuzzling his too warm cheek against his boyfriend’s soft stomach.
Immediately, with Alex’s reluctant confession, Henry’s worry transformed into concentrated care. Settling Alex more comfortably against the couch, pulling a soft blanket around him and cradling his head with soft pillows before slipping away momentarily.
Alex whined quietly at the loss of contact, and Henry ran a gentle hand through his curls repeatedly.
“I’ll be right back, love.” He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Alex’s feverish brow before swiftly disappearing into the kitchen.
After a few minutes he brought a glass of water, insisting Alex take small sips along with a cool compress that he laid gently on Alex’s forehead.
Then he pulled Alex back into his arms, adjusting the warm quilt over him, and kissing the tip of his nose before gently running his fingers through his messy dark curls, finding a soothing rhythm that had Alex breathing deeply and snuggling up tightly against his chest within minutes.
"Just rest, darling" Henry murmured, gently stroking Alex's hair. "I've got you."
Alex leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed once more. He was quiet, almost too quiet, but now it was a different kind of quiet – the quiet of someone finally surrendering to the care they needed.
“Love you…” Alex whispered as he began to slip into the sweet embrace of restful sleep.
“Te Amo Mucho, Alex.” Henry purred in his ear, before kissing each of his eyelids in turn and rubbing soothing circles in his back until he couldn’t hear the hum of the television over Alex’s rumbling snores.
He couldn’t recall the last time Alex had been this sick; it was usually Henry who caught every passing bug.
Henry was immensely grateful that Alex was usually so healthy, seeing his human golden retriever of a boyfriend so unnervingly still and silent broke his heart.
For the rest of the day and into the next, Henry doted on Alex, checking his temperature, bringing him fluids and light meals, and keeping him company with soft conversations and his quiet presence.
Alex, despite his initial resistance to admit to contracting an illness, succumbed to Henry’s care, his strength slowly returning with the passing hours.
By Tuesday, his fever had broken, and the color had begun to return to his bronze cheeks.
"You're quite the nurse, Your Royal Highness," Alex teased, his voice regaining its usual strength. "Still crediting my unusually strong immune system to being Texas tough though." A smirk creasing his perfect face.
"Anything for you, Alexander," Henry replied with a warm smile, pulling him close, relieved to hear the familiar banter of the love of his life, and selfishly hopes he never has to go another day without it.