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Chuck winced slightly as another thunderous sneeze nearly rattled the windowpane of the couple's shared bedroom. He struggled to regain control of the quivering bowl of soup in his hands, some of it sloshing out onto the floor. He sighed, making a mental note to clean it up later. Chuck shifted to bowl slightly to a position in the crook of his arm and glanced sympathetically at the pale form laying in the bed before him.
"Hey....feeling better?" He simpered, making his way over to beside Red's pillow. He got a sniffle in the way of a response, Red moving to wipe his nose with the already snot-coated yellow sleeve of his pajamas. Chuck grinned a little, like he did whenever he saw Red's yellow pajamas. It was an idea he had introduced to Red a few months ago. They both had night clothes that were the color of their partner's hair. Red, of course, had been sheepish about it, especially when Matilda held one of her get-together sleepovers at her house and Chuck had forced him to wear them.
It was...in a word...adorable.
'But not too much at the moment..' Chuck thought, seeing that the pajamas were thoroughly coated in all manner of bodily fluids, from sweat to saliva. He shuddered a little and made yet another mental note to wash them later. Maybe twice. Using the cherry scented stuff that Matilda had given the couple. That usually got the stains out. Usually. He shook his head and crossed the rest of the room to Red, who was wiping his nose yet again on his sleeve while groaning.
"I hate being sick," he replied, his voice stuffy and weak. He turned his gaze to his partner. His eyes were slightly pink and unfocused.
Chuck frowned in sympathy, and then he smiled, presenting the bowl of now lukewarm soup in a grand fashion. "Well, you won't be for long. I made you my famous noodle soup!"
"......Did you use those noodles I like?"
"Of course."
"Ooh," Red breathed appreciatively, holding out his sweaty hands. "Gimme."
Chuck set the bowl down in Red's lap with a little grin, grouping his covers around to hold the bowl steady. "Lemme get you a spoon. Wait a sec."
He plodded out of the room, stepping delicately over the puddle on the floor and the multiple tissues clumped around the doorway like dirty snow. He got to the kitchen, flinching a little when he passed the mounds upon mounds of dirty dishes in the sink, covered with all manner of sticky and dried on crud, ranging from crystallized cheese to squishy fruit salad. He hated for stuff to be this untidy, but he'd been devoting so much of his time to Red....... he just didn't have the time to do anything else. Chuck ran his fingers through his blond hair, held back with a bandana, and started rifling through a drawer in search of a spoon.
"Chuuuck....." came the whine from the open bedroom door.
"Coming!" He snatched up said utensil, the least dirty one, and made his way back to the room.
Red was sitting up in his bed, surprisingly. The bowl of soup was still propped in his lap, supported by the mounds of covers around him. His arms were stretched out towards Chuck, with his lip stuck out in a pout reminiscent of a lost and very hungry puppy.
Chuck smiled despite himself. While he didn't exactly enjoy Red being sick, he'd be lying if he said he didn't like how vulnerable Red became when he fell ill. He was usually the one always intense. Never needing anything. Tough. So it was sort of fun when he had to turn to Chuck for things, like that time at the beach. It was like the roles in the relationship were shifted, even if it was just for a day.
"I was only in the kitchen," he joked, setting the spoon in the bowl and flopping down beside Red.
"That was too long for a spoon..." Red muttered, lifting a spoonful of soup to his mouth and blowing on it gently.
"Ah ah ah!" Chuck snatched the spoon out of his fingers, getting an idea. He knew the best way to enjoy Red's vulnerability. He made some soup sloshed out onto the covers, but he could clean it later. The sheets were due for a major fluff and fold anyway....
"What-?" Red looked at Chuck, scrunching up his nose. "What the heck, man? I think I can handle eating some soup. I'm not dying over here."
"I know, but you might spill. Your hand keeps shakin'. I just wanna make sure there's no incident. Open up." He dropped an octave the last two words, raising his eyebrows.
Red's face flushed, which might have been blamed on his fever. He didn't argue even a little, which shocked Chuck. He just opened his mouth, turning so he was facing Chuck entirely. His hands were in his lap like an obedient child. The other shook off his shock at the lack of resistance, grinned, and slowly brought the spoon to his partner's mouth, not before tasting it to make sure it wasn't too hot. "Here comes the airplane..." he said in a sing-song voice, which might have been an innocent thing to say if not for the suggestive tone and wiggle of his eyebrows.
Red's face flushed even further. Chuck placed the spoon in his mouth. "Close up," he prodded.
The other closed his mouth.
"Now swallow."
How long did Matilda say it was gonna be until Red was better?
A week?
Yeah...he could deal with that.