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Robby looked at himself in the mirror and smoothed down his hair. He wrinkled his nose and ran his hand through it again, messing it up. He couldn’t decide what looked best, what he felt most comfortable in. With a sigh, he glanced at his wristwatch. He’d have to leave soon if he wanted to make it to the restaurant on time. Jack didn’t like when people were late.
Jack.
He was going to a restaurant with Jack. On a date.
Something had changed between them after PittFest. It was like something that had been buried deep suddenly drifted up to the surface. Something that had been chugging along in the background, a white noise. Jack, always the more forward of them, was the one who took the plunge.
“Feel free to punch me if I’m reading the room wrong,” he had said after handover one morning. “Do you want to go out with me?”
Robby hadn’t been on a date in ages. After his last relationship crashed and burned spectacularly, he vowed to stay single and celibate until the day he died.
“Christ alive, you’re one melodramatic old fart, aren’t you?” Jack had said with a dramatic roll of his eyes when Robby vented his thoughts while somewhat beer drunk.
“I’m Jewish, Christ has nothing to do with it,” Robby had pointed out and Jack had slapped him upside the head.
Time was running out and Robby finally decided to smooth his hair down. You were supposed to look somewhat proper on your first date, right? Look your best and all that. Did that also go for when you were going on a date with someone who’d been your best friend for the better part of two decades? They had already seen the worst, ugliest and nastiest parts of each other. They’d seen each other at their lowest and at their highest.
With his heart fluttering in his chest and his mouth dry, Robby left his condo and locked the door behind him. He was nervous. He was worried they were making a mistake. If it turned out they weren’t compatible as partners, could they walk it back? Go back to being friends? Or would Robby lose the person most important to him? The thought made him feel sick.
He made it to the restaurant with ten minutes to spare and he almost chickened out. He thought about making an excuse. But they’d already been putting it off for too long. Life and work had come in the way, a nasty virus infection had swept through the staff like a wildfire. Jack and Robby had stood strong, but their apparently stellar immune systems meant that they had to pick up the slack when the rest of the staff dropped like flies. Going on a date was the last thing on either of their minds as they desperately tried to keep the Pitt afloat.
Jack was already there, casually leaning against the wall. He was beautiful. His curls glistened in the late afternoon sun, the black polo he had chosen was tight in all the right places and the chinos were stretched tight over his thighs. Robby suddenly felt very inadequate in his button down, blazer and jeans.
Jack perked up when he spotted Robby, pushing himself away from the wall. A new thought struck Robby: how was he supposed to greet Jack now? Before, it would be a slap on the back, a one-armed heterosexually approved bro-hug, or just a smile and a nod if they were both too exhausted to give anything emotionally. But that didn’t feel right for this situation. They were on a date. Robby desperately tried to remember how he had behaved on all the other first dates he’d been on. But before he could freak out too much and just run away, Jack took the decision for him and walked up to hug him.
“Hey,” Jack said as he wrapped his arms around Robby and automatically, Robby hugged him back.
“Hey yourself,” Robby greeted.
They had hugged each other thousands of times. But this hug felt different. Charged with nervous and excited energy.
“I’m a bit nervous,” Robby blurted out for some reason when they pulled apart. He could feel the back of his neck heat up and the blush crawled up his cheeks. Jack laughed.
“Yeah, me too,” he admitted. His hand lingered on Robby’s shoulder for a moment before he let it drop.
They walked into the restaurant and they were shown to their table. The nervousness that had been swirling around in Robby’s chest started to subside as they sat down and ordered a glass of wine each. He realised that while this was new, they had never been on a date together before, it was still Jack. His Jack, the man who always managed to make him feel safe, secure and supported.
The conversation flowed easily, even when they started to talk about things they didn’t usually. They talked about exes and relationships, what they were looking for and what they wanted. Jack talked about his wife, fiddling with the wedding band he still wore. Robby aired his fears about them making a mistake. Jack nodded along and he told Robby that he had thought the same.
At some point during the meal, Jack stretched out his good leg under the table to hook his ankle around Robby’s. The point of contact sent a pleasant shiver through Robby’s entire body. Oh, he was down bad already.
As the dinner went on, Robby felt a sudden exhaustion creep over him. It had to be because the nervousness for the date was beginning to let go. And it had been a rough few weeks at work. He was relaxed for the first time in what felt like months. But the weariness crept into his body, coiling around his spine.
“Excuse me for being forward,” Jack said as he put his cutlery down and pushed the finished dessert plate away from him. “But do you want to head back to mine?”
The question was loaded. It wasn’t a suggestion to go back to Jack’s to hang out. Robby’s stomach swooped in excitement. The exhaustion was suddenly forgotten.
Jack immediately regretted inviting Robby back to his place. Not because he didn’t want to get Robby into bed, god no. Robby looked absolutely delicious in his shirt and jeans, and he had been fantasising about getting his hands on the solid frame of Robby for longer than he wanted to admit. But Jack was tired. His joints ached and a headache was creeping up on him.
God, he hated having a body. It never worked with him, instead it seemed hellbent on working against him whenever it could. He had just been on a wonderful date with a man he was head over heels for and they were about to hopefully fall into bed together, and his body decided sucks for you, but I’m tired now. Jack rubbed his hands together as they walked, trying to chase the ache from his knuckles. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Robby rub at his eye. Honestly, he looked as tired as Jack felt.
To get his mind off of his aching bones, Jack reached out to brush his fingers against the back of Robby’s hand. A silent question. Can I hold your hand? Robby looked over, smiling wide and kind, his eyes sparkling. Then he grabbed Jack’s hand and intertwined their fingers. Robby’s hand was warm and clammy. Well, he had admitted to being nervous.
By the time they made it to Jack’s condo, Jack was beginning to realise that even if Robby was up for sleeping together, Jack wouldn’t be able to. He was exhausted. They stepped into Jack’s hallway and shrugged off their coats. As Robby started toeing off his shoes, Jack cleared his throat.
“Look, don’t take this personally,” he started as he set about removing his own shoes. “I did ask you back here to fuck you, but, I’m honestly so tired I don’t think I could get it up.”
Jack wasn’t sure how he expected Robby to reply. Maybe with annoyance or frustration. Or some joke about blue balls.
“Oh thank god,” Robby breathed out and that really wasn’t what Jack anticipated. He looked up and the shock must have been clear on Jack’s face, because Robby grimaced and hurried to explain himself. “I’m just fucking exhausted too.”
“We’re too old for this, man,” Jack laughed and leaned against the wall. Everything hurt. “I’d be really happy if you wanted to spend the night, though.”
They had slept over at each other’s place before. Jack’s guest room might as well have been Robby’s room and Robby’s guest room might as well have been Jack’s. Jack had some spare clothes at Robby’s and Robby had some spare clothes at Jack’s. The thought of having Robby in his own bed made Jack’s stomach clench pleasantly.
“Would love to,” Robby said with a smile.
They stood in Jack’s cramped hallway, less than a foot apart. Robby’s eyes flicked down to Jack’s mouth and then up again. Before he could change his mind, Jack reached up to cup the back of Robby’s neck and pulled him down so that he could press their lips together.
Jack had been with men before, he had kissed men both with and without beards. But for some reason, kissing Robby felt different than any other kiss he’d had. It sent a pleasant shiver from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Robby’s lips were gentle and soft against his own. As Robby placed his hand behind Jack’s neck and gently ran his thumb over the soft curls, Jack felt his knees go weak.
“Oh wow,” he breathed out as they eventually broke apart.
Jack wanted the night to last longer. Even if he didn’t feel up for any vigorous activity in the bedroom, he wanted to cuddle up against Robby on the sofa, he wanted to feel Robby’s body against his own. But in what had to be the least romantic ending to a date ever, he and Robby fell into Jack’s large bed and both of them fell asleep almost immediately.
Jack slept restlessly. His dreams were weird, intense and trippy. He wasn’t sure how long he had been passed out when he suddenly jerked awake, heart beating fast in his chest and his sleep clothes stuck to his sweaty body. He didn’t need to be a published emergency medicine physician to figure out that he had at some point during the night developed a fever. Unpleasant and intense shivers ran through his body. Every part of him ached.
It took a while for him to remember that he hadn’t been alone when he went to bed. Jack forced himself to turn his head. It felt like he was moving through syrup. The other side of the bed was empty, the covers haphazardly thrown back. As he started to deliriously wonder where Robby had gone, the light in the en suite flicked on and the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up echoed through the room.
With sluggish movements, Jack sat up in bed and felt around until his hand hit his crutch. With an effort that felt herculean, he managed to heave himself upright. With the help of both the wall and his crutch, he made his way across the bedroom and to the en suite.
Robby was standing over the sink, his hands gripping the sides as he threw up again. Jack had never been a sympathetic vomiter, he had developed an iron stomach working in the profession he did. But whatever infection was wreaking havoc on his system decided that it was a good idea for him too to empty his stomach. He barely had time to flip up the toilet lid before he barfed the remains of the expensive dinner.
Robby groaned as he flicked on the tap, washing down the evidence of his puking. He then dipped his head and filled his mouth with water. He swished it around, rinsing out his mouth and he then spat it out. It was followed by another groan. Jack stayed hunched over the toilet bowl, waiting for his stomach to decide if it was done or not.
“Ohh, we’re fucked up,” Robby croaked and washed his face.
Jack looked over at him. Robby’s eyes were bloodshot and his skin was ghostly pale. The t-shirt he had been sleeping in clung to Robby’s frame, drenched in sweat. Jack doubted he looked much better himself.
“Where’s your, uh,” Robby rubbed his face and blinked sluggishly as he looked for the word he needed. “Thermometer.”
“Cabinet,” Jack croaked out just before his stomach decided that it did in fact have more contents for him to throw up.
Robby's large hand landed on Jack’s back and he gently rubbed it along his spine. Jack couldn’t decide if it was comforting or uncomfortable. Before he could make up his mind, Robby pulled back his hand and shuffled to rummage around in the cabinet. After a while, he pulled out a thermometer and held it towards Jack.
“Where do I put it?” He asked, voice rough.
Jack blinked. The words didn’t make any sense at first. Then it clicked.
“Mouth,” he said before flushing the toilet. His stomach had calmed down a bit and he dared to straighten out.
His head was spinning and he almost lost his balance. With a grunt, he grabbed onto the sink to stabilize himself. While Jack had worked on not falling and cracking his head open on the tiled floor, Robby had finished taking his temperature and the thermometer beeped. Robby pulled it out of his mouth and tried to read the small digits on the tiny display. He tried holding it out at various lengths from his face and squinting. It was, quite frankly, adorable.
“101,3,” Robby read out aloud when he finally found a distance from his face that made the digits at least somewhat readable. “Beat that.”
Jack dropped the lid to the toilet and sat down heavily on it. His knees felt weak and he was in no mood for falling. He watched vacantly as Robby washed the thermometer and when he held it out towards Jack, he took it and stuck it under his tongue. While he waited for it to finish taking his temperature, he watched as Robby went back to rummage through the cabinet. He pulled out some Advil and some apple flavored Hydrite Jack couldn’t remember buying.
Finally, it beeped and Jack pulled it out of his mouth.
“102,2,” he announced and put it on the sink.
“You always have to be so dramatic,” Robby mumbled. “I’m just gonna get some water.”
Robby disappeared out of the room, leaving Jack still sitting on the toilet. A shiver ran through him. He felt like death.
Robby shuffled through the dark condo. His head was pounding and his stomach was still doing flips. Oh, they were both properly fucked up. This was what they got for having bragged about their superior immune systems that saved them from the virus that knocked everyone else on their asses.
Robby had been by Jack’s place enough times during their long friendship that he thankfully didn’t need to turn on the lights to find two glasses and fill them with water. With shaking hands and aching joints, he tore two Hydrite sachets open and poured them into the glasses. Fetching a teaspoon, he stirred the water to dissolve the powder. The sounds of the metal clinking against the glass bounced around his head and made him feel sick.
When he decided that the contents of the sachets had dissolved enough, he took the two glasses and forced his exhausted feet to move. He shambled back through the condo, trying to not trip over air.
Jack was exactly where Robby had left him, sitting on the closed lid and staring vacantly ahead. He was pale as a ghost, dark circles around his bloodshot and fever-glazed eyes. Robby held out one of the glasses towards Jack. It took a while before he reacted, eventually reaching out to take the glass in one of his shaking hands. As he grasped it, he grimaced. The glass probably felt as unbearably cold against Jack’s skin as it did against Robby’s own. He then handed Jack an Advil and took one for himself.
With the help of the Hydrite, they swallowed down the Advil and drained the glasses. Then they waited to see if their upset stomachs would let them keep it down. When a minute or so had passed without anything threatening to reappear, Robby grabbed the glasses and put them on the sink.
“Bed,” he said, his voice hoarse and rough.
Leaning heavily on each other, like they had done after so many nights out or rough shifts, they shuffled their way back to the bedroom. Robby barely remembered to turn off the light in the en suite. Then they collapsed into a feverish heap, Jack’s crutch clattering to the floor. Oh, it would be a pain in the ass for Jack when he needed to get up next. Robby knew that he should help out, he should right himself and pick up the crutch from wherever it had landed to properly lean it against the bedside table where Jack usually put it. But his body wouldn’t obey. He could barely force himself to pull away from Jack enough so that he could pull the covers over both of them.
They waited for the Advil to kick in in an uncomfortable, feverish haze. Every part of Robby’s body hurt, he was cold into his bones. Jack was obviously in the same situation as he kept trying to wrap all of the covers around himself, leaving Robby bare to the unbearably cold room air. It started a lethargic tug of war that neither of them were winning or had energy enough to put their backs into.
But finally, the Advil started to kick in and the fever was slowly releasing its hold on both of them. As the violent shivering started to abide, both of them started to drift off into a restless sleep.
The next 48 hours passed in a haze. Mostly they slept, in the tight grasps of fever dreams. Whenever they woke up, they’d feel sweaty and gross. Either they’d be shivering and whimpering as the fever was rising again or they’d feel boiling hot and kick off the covers as the Advil rapidly got rid of the raised temperature. They took turns bringing medication and water, desperately trying to replenish the fluids they were losing.
Like with those at work who’d been struck with it, it didn’t last more than a few days. The infection started to release its grasp on Robby first. The IED that had taken Jack’s leg had also left him with a blast damage to his lungs and respiratory infections usually managed to dig themselves a bit deeper into Jack. As Robby finally started to feel well enough to get out of bed and his temperature dropping into the 90s, Jack stayed behind, his fever still on the wrong side of 100.
“C’mon, up,” Robby said one afternoon as he stood over the bed, voice rough and hoarse from illness and disuse. “Gotta change the sheets.”
With a lot of grumbling and complaining, Jack managed to get himself out of the bed and groaned as he forced his aching body upright. He leaned against Robby, who caught him and held him against his chest. Jack felt himself shake slightly, his fever was probably on the rise again. His leg felt weak and he wanted to lay back down. At the same time, he wanted to stay firmly planted against Robby’s solid frame. He wanted Robby’s large hands on him and he wanted to press himself against Robby’s soft body.
At some point, Robby started to guide them towards the living room and he gently deposited Jack on the sofa. It seemed like he was about to leave, to make good on his promise to change the sheets. But Jack kept his hand on Robby’s waist, taking a weak handful of Robby’s t-shirt. It tightened around Robby’s frame in a way that normally would have gotten Jack all riled up.
“Stay,” Jack said. It did perhaps sound a bit whiney, but so what?
Robby didn’t seem to need that much convincing as he collapsed into the sofa next to Jack. Immediately, Jack curled up against him. The swiftly rising fever made him feel freezingly cold and Robby’s still somewhat elevated bodily temperature felt just like what he needed. Robby grabbed a blanket and pulled it around them. They hadn’t even turned on the tv.
Jack drifted off with his head on Robby’s chest, feeling his head rise and fall with Robby’s breathing. The steady beating of his heart lulled him into another feverish sleep.
Robby was sweating beneath the blanket. Jack was like a furnace against him, his cheeks flushed from fever and he would occasionally frown and mumble something in his sleep. One of Jack’s hands was still holding tightly onto his shirt and the other was loosely wrapped around his waist. Robby didn’t have the heart to dislodge him.
Carefully, he pressed a kiss to the top of Jack’s head. His whole body still ached from the lingering fever and he was sweating through his clothes as his (boy?)friend clung to him in his feverish sleep. But it didn’t matter. He felt happy, sitting on the sofa with Jack in his arms. Robby let himself drift off as well, lulled to sleep by Jack’s quiet snoring.