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Jongdae coughed weakly, the sound grating on his ears in the quiet apartment. The garbled sounds of the news came from the TV, which he’d switched on to distract himself from the pounding headache he had. He shifted against the pillows he was flopped against, but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Sighing, he struggled up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting shakily to his feet. Jongdae’s head spun and he stumbled to the side a couple of steps, reaching out towards the wall for balance. The faint sound of the TV was drowned out by the ringing in his ears. Steadying himself against the wall, Jongdae squeezed his eyes shut. He kept them closed until the ringing subsided, before he glanced over at the red numbers on the alarm clock.
5:05. Minseok would be home from work soon, and Jongdae had said that morning that he would make dinner. It had only been shortly after that when he had started feeling sick, and it wasn’t long before he was huddled under the blankets, weak and shivering, and with a splitting headache.
Nonetheless, he shuffled into the kitchen. He didn’t want Minseok to have to make him dinner when he’d already gone to work all day, while Jongdae had called in sick. He didn’t want to worry his boyfriend.
The kitchen tile was cold under Jongdae’s bare feet. He shivered and rubbed his palms along his bare arms in an attempt to warm himself. He stood there for a minute, staring blankly at the refrigerator before he remembered what he was doing. They were running low on groceries, but Jongdae didn’t have time to go to the store, so he settled for a simple stir fry. He was halfway through cutting the vegetables when he accepted that he was too cold, and trudged back to the bedroom for fuzzy socks and a blanket. With a blue blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he made his way slowly back into the kitchen, stopping once as a coughing fit shook his thin frame. He continued on, slower than usual. The sickness made him feel sluggish and exhausted, and he just wanted to curl up to drink hot tea and fall asleep.
Jongdae was chopping carrots and attempting to distract himself from how shitty he felt, when there was a sudden, sharp pain in his hand. He jerked his hand away, hissing and dropping the knife back to the cutting board with a clatter. Blood was welling up and starting to drip down his finger from a small cut. Jongdae stared down at it, lips trembling, tears welling up in his eyes. He wanted to just curl up into a ball and cry. Frustration was building up, blocking his throat and making his hands shake. Jongdae slowly leaned back against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the cold floor, knees pulled up to his chest. He reached out for a kitchen towel and pressed it tightly against his bleeding finger with shaking hands. The tears slipped out, rolling down his flushed cheeks without permission.
It was at that moment that the front door clicked open and Minseok made his way into the apartment, shrugging off his coat. A rush of cold air accompanied him inside before Minseok pushed the door shut behind him. Jongdae’s whole body tensed, trying to scramble up off of the floor, but the blanket around his shoulders was tangling in his feet and he stumbled back, dizziness overtaking him. He lurched backward, his spine hitting the edge of the counter, and then there were arms around him.
“Jongdae?” Minseok’s voice was tense, worried against his ear. “Sweetie, what happened?” Jongdae’s eyes were squeezed shut, tears still brimming in the corners. Minseok’s hand reached up to cradle the back of his neck, gently bringing Jongdae’s head forward to rest on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, hm?”
“I… I got sick,” Jongdae mumbled, his voice muffled in Minseok’s shoulder.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Minseok asked softly. His hand was now carding through Jongdae’s mussed hair, smoothing it out. The pads of his fingers were soothing in the way they dragged across his scalp.
“Didn’t want to bother you at work,” Jongdae said. “Besides, it’s not that bad.” Minseok pulled back to look at him, raising his eyebrows.
“Not that bad? You’re crying, you never cry.” Jongdae’s teeth worked at the inside of his cheek as he avoided Minseok’s eyes. He sniffled.
“Yeah, well…” He dropped his head back down onto Minseok’s shoulder with a soft sigh, nuzzling gently. Minseok’s fingers were then circling his wrist, bringing his hand up for inspection. Jongdae made a frustrated sound as Minseok pulled back once again to examine the cut. He wanted to be coddled and held. Minseok frowned at the cut on Jongdae’s finger. There was still blood welling steadily and making a trail of dark red down his finger. Minseok’s forehead creased with worry, the corners of his lips tugging down.
“Jongdae…” He led the other boy over to the sink, turning on the faucet and holding his hand under the warm stream of water. He rifled through a few drawers before he managed to find some gauze and bandages, turning back to Jongdae and reaching for his injured hand. He was impossibly careful and gentle as he wrapped the bandages around the cut.
“I’m sorry,” Jongdae whispered, eyes downcast.
“Why are you sorry?” Minseok whispered back. His warm fingers were under Jongdae’s chin, tipping his head up to look at him. Jongdae blinked rapidly, his lashes still wet from crying.
“I don’t know, I just… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Jongdae pushed his face back into the junction of Minseok’s neck and shoulder and let out a soft sigh.
“You’re never any trouble, sweetheart,” Minseok said, his hand stroking down Jongdae’s back. His palm was warm through Jongdae’s thin t-shirt. The blanket had slipped from around his shoulders and he shivered at the cool air on his bare arms. “Come on, let’s take your temperature and get you some medicine,” Minseok said against his hair.
Minseok got a firm hold around his hips and hoisted Jongdae up to sit on the countertop, brushing back his bangs to feel his forehead.
“Shit, Jongdae, you’re burning up,” he said with a frown, letting the other boy’s bangs fall back over his forehead. “You must feel awful.” Jongdae just shrugged, teeth digging into his lower lip. Minseok rubbed his hand comfortingly along Jongdae’s arm and leaned in to brush his lips over the other boy’s burning forehead before he went in search of the first aid kit, returning a minute later with a thermometer. The cool plastic was coaxed into his mouth and settled under his tongue. 101 degrees fahrenheit. Jongdae’s skin was hot and feverish, but he still felt cold, and he wanted Minseok’s warm arms back around him. He accepted the Tylenol and water that Minseok handed him, swallowing the pills and sighing. He wanted to just curl up in bed and watch a movie until he fell asleep. It was odd how drained he felt despite having stayed home all day and lain around.
“Carry me?” He jutted out his bottom lip and batted his eyelashes at Minseok, reaching his arms out towards his boyfriend. Minseok just grinned at him and moved closer to scoop Jongdae into his arms. He made his way slowly to the bedroom, laying Jongdae down on the bed and moving to tuck the blankets around him. The curtains were drawn shut, making the room dim, and the blankets were soft around him, but Jongdae pouted up at Minseok.
“Quit making that face, it’s too cute,” Minseok smiled at him, reaching down to brush aside a stray piece of hair.
“That’s the point,” Jongdae gave a strained smile in return. “Come on, just cuddle with me.”
“I should get you some dinner first. When did you eat last?” Minseok asked. He smoothed his hands over the blankets, straightening the covers out and reaching up to make sure the pillows were fluffed.
“Minseokkie…” Jongdae whined. “Cuddle with me.” The pouting face was back. Minseok couldn’t ever resist Jongdae, especially not when he made that face. Jongdae could feel the warmth that seemed to radiate off of Minseok in waves as he slid under the covers beside him. Immediately pressing closer, he tucked his face against Minseok’s neck, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Minseok’s arms around his waist held him closer, his breaths stirring the hair at the top of Jongdae’s head. Jongdae nosed his way further into Minseok’s neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne that was strongest right under his jawline. Everything was warm, wrapped in blankets, a gentle hand stroking along his back. Dim winter light peeked through the curtains and fell in stripes across the bed, and the only sounds were of their soft breathing and the rustling of covers. Minseok’s lips were soft when they brushed his heated forehead, moving to press soft kisses at his hairline.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Minseok breathed the words against his hair, tightening his arms just the slightest bit.
Jongdae’s lips curved up in a smile against Minseok’s collarbone and he let his eyes flutter shut. “Okay.” His eyelashes brushed against Minseok’s skin, a soft whisper, barely there. He loved being held like this. Minseok’s hand still traveled idly along the length of Jongdae’s spine in steady passes. Jongdae lay still and soft, and the sound of Minseok’s rhythmic heartbeat was barely audible in his ears.
He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, groggy and slightly dazed, he was curled in a lump on his side and surrounded by blankets that trapped in the warmth. Minseok was gone, and Jongdae blinked a few times before flopping onto his back, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He could hear the sound of shuffling feet and clinking from down the hall; Minseok was probably making dinner. Jongdae dragged himself into an upright position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He still felt tired, his body shaky, but the headache wasn’t as sharp. Fumbling for his phone on the nightstand, he checked the time. Just after 7:30. He’d slept for two hours. Yawning again, Jongdae got to his feet, pressing a hand against his temple and massaging in slow circles. He padded down the hallway and into the kitchen, socks quiet against the wood floors.
Minseok was standing at the counter, stirring sugar into a cup of tea. His hair was rumpled from sleep, sticking up in an endearingly messy fashion. Jongdae smiled and shuffled closer so he could wrap his arms around Minseok’s waist from behind and rest his head against his back.
“How did you sleep?” Minseok asked, and the sound vibrated against Jongdae’s ear.
He hummed softly. “Very well,” Jongdae’s arms loosened a fraction so Minseok could turn, his own arms reaching out to return the embrace, wrapping tightly around Jongdae’s shoulders and pressing a slow kiss against his temple. Jongdae could feel the smile against his skin.
“I know it’s cliché, but I made you soup,” Minseok said into his hair, chuckling. Jongdae grinned and pulled back so he could move closer to the stove and peek into the pot of soup simmering on the burner.
“It is cliché, but I like it,” he said, eyes bright despite how achy and tired he felt.
Minseok made Jongdae take his temperature while he spooned the soup into a bowl for him. The fever hadn’t gone down, but Jongdae insisted that he felt better. Minseok still fussed over him, ushering him over to the couch and draping blankets across his lap, fluffing up the pillows and adding more sugar to his tea so it was sweet the way Jongdae liked it. The tea was hot and he wrapped his hands around the cup to warm his palms. Minseok made his way over to the couch, where Jongdae was cocooned in a mountain of blankets, and set the bowl of soup on the coffee table. Steam curled up from the ceramic bowl as he carefully spooned it out and held it towards Jongdae.
“I can feed myself,” He said with a roll of his eyes, but Minseok just held the spoon out closer to him.
“But I want to take care of you,” He gave Jongdae his best pleading expression, eyes wide and lips set in a pout. Jongdae couldn’t help the bright smile that took over his features as he reached up to poke at Minseok’s cheeks.
“You are taking care of me,” He gave a light laugh, which dissolved into a fit of coughs that shook his slender frame. Jongdae waved his hand in dismissal at Minseok’s concerned gaze and rolled his eyes again as Minseok shot up off the couch and hurried into the kitchen for cough drops. Jongdae sniffled, then coughed again.
“Here, I found the cough drops,” Minseok popped one out of the foil package and coaxed it into Jongdae’s mouth. “They’re cherry flavored,” he added brightly, as if it was great news. Jongdae mumbled a thank you, settling deeper into his cocoon of pillows and blankets. He watched as Minseok turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. After a minute, he settled on some drama Jongdae vaguely recognized.
When Minseok picked up the soup bowl and turned back to him with an expectant look, Jongdae gave in.
“Alright, feed me,” he mumbled, features softening as Minseok smiled at him. The broth was warm and soothing to his throat. He couldn’t really be upset about being spoon-fed because it seemed to make Minseok happy, another way to fuss over him and insist he was taken care of. When the soup was done, he set aside the bowl and shifted so they were leaning against each other. They watched the drama for a few minutes in silence, Jongdae taking smalls sips of his tea. It was another one of those rich-guy-meets-poor-girl storylines that seemed to be a necessary element of every drama. The girl was being defiant about something while the guy continued to act like a rich asshole. It wasn’t very interesting to Jongdae, but Minseok seemed to like it.
Jongdae looked over at him from under his fringe, studying the lines of his profile. Smiling, he took a sip of his tea and set it down so he could worm his way into Minseok’s arms. He managed to climb onto his boyfriend’s lap, dragging his blankets with him, and relaxed into his chest. His lips parted and a soft sigh slipped out.
Jongdae was always cuddly, even when he wasn’t sick. He liked to press up against Minseok and wind his arms around him and push his face into his neck. Minseok always eagerly returned his cuddles, smiling at the affection and pulling Jongdae even closer. Right now, Jongdae was even more cuddly than usual, and Minseok happily indulged him. He looked down at Jongdae, curled up tightly and nuzzling at the column of his throat, and he felt warmth spreading through his chest. He watched as Jongdae’s eyes fell shut, lashes resting against the tops of his high cheekbones. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep, breaths evening out and body going limp in Minseok’s lap.
Minseok would probably take the day off of work tomorrow to stay home with Jongdae. He would call later, though. Right now, he was content to nap on the couch with a lapful of sleepy Jongdae.