Work Text:
Dexter hates being sick. But what he hates more than being sick is missing work. Which is why when he woke up to his head pounding and body aching he didn't call in. Why instead of resting he went on with his day, trying his best to ignore the pain.
Well, at least until he couldn't ignore it any longer.
He was dizzy, and nauseous and the florescent light of the precinct were painfully bright against his headache.
He must've looked as awful as he felt because it only took a minute before Debra shows up at his desk, giving him a worried look.
The one thing he hates more than sick days.
Pity.
And does Debra wear it like that floral perfume she bathed in every morning.
"You okay, Dex?"
"I'm fine."
"You look like shit Dex. You're definitely not fine."
"I Just didn't get much sleep, that's all." He lies.
Debra doesn't seem to accept this but she doesn't argue, she just says "Fine, just don't pass out or something." Still wearing that worried look on her face as she leaves.
He hates this. Hates that people worry about them.
'They wouldn't worry about you if they knew who you really are' he hears his father's voice say, oh so unhelpful as always.
He shoves those thoughts back down. Murders don't solve themselves.
He doesn't get much done. He sampled blood tissue off of a pair of gloves. But that was it. His head was killing him and the iron smell of blood certainly wasn't helping..
The door opened and from the corner of his eye he caught a flash of a Hawaiian shirt. Great, just what he needs.
"Yo, you good Dex?" Angel asks him, there's a certain worried edge to his voice that makes Dexter more nauseous than he was. But of course he won't admit that.
"Yeah, fine." He adds in a small smile for good measure.
"Fine? You look like you're about to pass out! Maybe you should go home.."
"No." He says way to quickly. "I don't, can I get back to my work now please?"
He goes to stand up when a wave of dizziness washes over him and sits him back down again. He lets out a hiss as he shoves a hand to his forehead.
Shit, no use in hiding it now.
"Dex?!" Angel's next to him now, putting a hand on his shoulder. Eyebrows knitted in worry.
He doesn't deserve this. Angel deserves someone better than him.
Angel gives his arm a gentle squeeze. "Let's get you home." Dex doesn't say anything. He just nods and lets his boyfriend walk him through the precinct. He can't even bring himself to care about the eyes watching them.
They haven't said anything yet, about them. Any fond looks across the precinct or shoulder grab has gone unnoticed or maybe just chalked up to being good friends.
Dexter climbs into the passenger seat as Angel turns the ignition.
"You should've told me sooner."
"I know. . ." He mumbles
Angel lets out a sharp exhale.
"Dex, I thought we agreed we'd start talking to each other about this stuff. hablando entre nosotros, y'know."
"I know, I.. didn't want you to worry. . ."
"im your partner man, I'm always gonna worry about you."
"Well, you shouldn't. ."
"Don't start there, I will worry about you, like you worry about me."
He doesn't say anything after that. He's way to nauseous to argue with Angel right now. So instead he just leans back and stares out the window as the scenery flashes by
--- <3 ----
They enter his apartment, Dexter practically leaning his full weight on Angel. 'Damn car sickness' he murmurs under his breath, walking towards the coach.
He stumbles over himself and he feels Angel's warm hand press stop his shoulder in an attempt to steady him.
" 'M fine.." he says leaning against him.
"Sure, love, you lay down on the bed and we'll take your temperature, okay?" Angel says his voice turning soft.
His words are so caring and sweet and Dexter wants to hurl. What does a guy like Angel see in someone like him?
He lets him be guided to the couch, letting himself succumb to exhaustion as his eyes droop close. The sound of Angel's footsteps lulling him to sleep.
Not too long later he's awaken by a cool hand pressing against his forehead. As soon as his eyes open the hand is pulled away, he finds himself missing the contact.
"Jesus, you're burning up."
"Thanks. ." He mumbles blinking away the sleep from his eyes, unsuccessfully he might add.
"I gotta check your temperature now, say ah." Angel says hovering the thermometer near his mouth.
He opens his mouth and closes it lazily around the thermometer, after a few seconds Angel gives him the command of 'open' and he complies obediently.
He watches as his boyfriend reads the results and the subsequent furrow in his eyebrows. High fever then.
"102°, mierda, Dex we need to cool you off."
"I have some ice packs in the freezer. ." He said through the pillow he had buried his face into.
"Forget ice packs man, you need a cold bath."
"Can't"
"What, why?"
"Dizzy. . ."
"You'll feel better after you rest ." Angel patted his shoulder "I'll get you some cold towels in the mean time."
Angel goes to retrieve some towels as Dexter continues to stare, unfocused, at the same corner of the room. He can't tell if his face is warm because of the fever or because Angel is here. He can't feel love but Angel makes him think he can (almost).
'He'll figure the real you one day' Harry took over his thoughts. 'if you keep on letting him get this close.'
I like it when Angel is around.
'the more he's around the higher chance you'll slip up.'
Are you going to be doing this the whole time?
Harry vanishes as Angel reappears in his vision. He had a wet towel draped across his left arm. In his other free arm is a Advil bottle.
"I'ma get you some water for the pill, I know your head is killing you." He informs Dexter as he gently places the cool towel on his forehead.
"I could put the towel on myself y'know." He retorts.
Angel just hums and turns around to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. After Dex is handed the glass he downs the pills and closes his eyes with a sigh.
He feels the cushion on the end of the couch sink down with Angel's body weight.
"You're going to get yourself sick."
Angel completely ignoring that comment switches in-between channels. "What do you wanna watch?"
"National Geographic is 26." He mumbles
He switches on Channel 26 and they both sit in silence for awhile, enjoying each other's presence. Though Dexter was actually interested in what was happening on TV, he was sure Angel wasn't paying attention.
Eventually Angel started to trace patterns on his leg and he let out a low hum.
"How you feeling?"
He hummed a non-verbal reply.
"See? Taking a break didn't kill you."
"I'm not explaining to LaGuerta why we both left work early.." he replied.
Angel didn't respond but he continued to rub his leg, and soon Dexter felt himself drifting into a soft sleep.
Maybe sick days weren't so bad..