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You wake up and your head is pounding. It feels like it’d fall right off if you weren’t laying down. Your nostrils feel sealed shut, and your mouth is dry from sucking in whatever air you could get. You sniffle loudly, and a glob of mucus slides right down your throat. Gross.
You’re soaked in sweat, your pajama shirt clinging to your torso. The covers next to you were made neat when your bedside partner got up earlier, contrasting how jostled yours look as you, presumably, tried to worm your way out in your sleep.
The light from the window hits your eyes hard. You lift an arm that feels too heavy to shield your vision. It’s not like you can really see your surroundings without your glasses anyway, and the prospect of leaning over– even slightly to your bedside table– to grab them makes your head spin. You can only wager a guess at what time it is, but you figure it’s gotta be later than you usually wake up.
Once you’ve been awake long enough for the fogginess of sleep to wear off, you realize Dirk must be in the workshop. You’d realized he was gone, but you didn’t process how it meant he must be off somewhere else. You wish he was in here, so he could try and deduce what would be up with you. Every time you try to swallow, your throat feels like it’s torn apart, and the discomfort rings into your headache.
You’d thought adventuring through dangerous jungles and eating far too many close-to-raw fish and the likes would’ve made your immune system, well, immune to anything like a cold, but your nose feels like it’s going to explode and leave a trail of snot across whatever surface it ends up on.
Absentmindedly patting around your table for your phone gets you nowhere. You really don’t want to open your eyes and let the searing lights flood in again, but you kind of have no choice. You open them slightly, the blurring from your nearsightedness and the excess fluids in your face giving you just enough vision to spot your olive green phone case amongst the various novels you’d begun reading at night.
GT: Good morning dirk.
GT: You wouldnt happen to be downstairs near any sort of medicine right.
GT: Could you be a dear and get some for me?
GT: I feel all out of sorts today.
GT: I fear i am maybe falling a bit under the weather.
You set your phone down next to you. Why’d you leave your brightness so high last time you used it? Your headache pierces worse now. You don’t know when Dirk will see your messages, but you really don’t want to get out of bed yourself.
Sure enough, you can faintly make out Dirk’s footsteps coming up the stairs. He’s light on his feet, but you’ve gotten used to listening for him. The bedroom door creaks open, and he peeks in.
DIRK: Hey.
DIRK: Uh.
DIRK: What’s… goin’ on?
You grumble a bit.
JAKE: Can you close the curtain?
Your voice sounds way raspier than you’d expected, and your congestion makes it slightly higher in pitch. Dirk must’ve reacted similarly to hearing you, because his tone shifts.
DIRK: Jesus, okay.
He pulls the curtains shut, and your eyes crack open. The darkness of the room is a lot better for your head, and you try to adapt to seeing again.
JAKE: Can you help me pull my shirt off?
JAKE: Im sweating like a dog and ive probably stained it.
DIRK: Yeah, sure.
DIRK: Do you need help sitting up?
JAKE: Mhm.
Dirk sits down next to you on the bed, grabbing your sides. You grab onto his shoulders, and he pulls you up to a regular sitting position. Your head lulls to the side, feeling far too heavy with all the extra mucus. Dirk’s hands pat around your lower back– an already familiar motion between the two of you– and find their way under to make contact with your skin. You try to lift your arms up, albeit weakly. The shirt is pulled over your head and discarded on the floor.
DIRK: So, what’s going on?
DIRK: Like, your symptoms, or whatever.
JAKE: My head hurts my nose is stuffed i feel woozy my throat is sore.
JAKE: I cant stop sweating.
DIRK: Yeah, you’re definitely hot.
JAKE: Now is not the time for flirting.
DIRK: Not what I meant and you know it.
DIRK: Is that it? Do you feel nauseous at all?
JAKE: No im not going to toss my cookies.
DIRK: Okay, okay.
DIRK: I’ll be right back.
DIRK: Gonna get you some medicine.
Dirk leans over, takes your hand, and sets something light in it. He stands up and leaves the room, making as little noise as he did when he came in. You look in your hand. It’s your glasses. You adjust your pillow behind you, propping it up against the headboard, and sit in the dark silence.
More times passes than you expected for Dirk to come back, but he’s got a whole tray in his arms when he does.
DIRK: Alright, I got…
DIRK: Tylenol, for your headache,
DIRK: orange juice, to get some vitamin C,
DIRK: honey, for your sore throat,
DIRK: water, to stay hydrated and take the pills,
DIRK: an ice pack to try and cool your fever,
DIRK: and some canned soup fresh from the microwave.
DIRK: I could also make some tea if you’d like that.
DIRK: Grabbed a couple extra pillows too so you can get extra comfortable, considering you should probably get some more rest.
You look at everything he’s grabbed for you. You figure you should start with the medicine, so you pick them off the tray and swallow them with the water.
DIRK: Alright, open wide.
He scoops up some broth, and holds the spoon close to your mouth. You sigh.
JAKE: Im perfectly capable of feeding myself you know.
You take the spoon from his hand and put it in your mouth. You take another spoonful and swallow that as well, just to prove him wrong. The warm broth feels nice on your throat.
DIRK: Okay. Great.
DIRK: Good to know that.
DIRK: So we can have a general idea of your strength level.
DIRK: You can lift a spoon with soup in it.
JAKE: You bet your—
You sneeze, louder than you’ve ever sneezed before, you think. Dirk blinks a couple times under his shades, surprised by the noise.
DIRK: Tissues. That’s what I forgot.
You sniffle all gross. Dirk runs out of the room for a minute to get you a box. He sets the box next to you before climbing into bed himself.
DIRK: You should get some sleep.
DIRK: Once you finish eating, I mean.
You nod, taking another spoonful of soup. The bowl is finished off before you realize it. Maybe it’s the full body exhaustion, or the warm food, but now you really feel like you could go back to sleep. Dirk had already tucked the extra pillows under you, and now you’re nice and comfortable. You roll over onto your side and begin to doze off.
You wake up a couple hours later, the room still mostly dark. Your mouth is dry again, and your headache— while mostly gone– is still present enough to be unpleasant. Dirk sits next to you, drawing tablet in his lap and laptop across from him. He’s illuminated by the cold glow of the screen. You stir a bit, and Dirk glances over slightly.
DIRK: You awake?
JAKE: Mmmmmmmmm…
JAKE: Mhm.
You sit up and stretch, trying to wake up enough to form a proper sentence.
DIRK: Feelin’ any better?
JAKE: I think.
JAKE: I mean i dont feel worse.
DIRK: Good.
DIRK: Let me know if you’re hungry or thirsty or need more medicine.
And with that, his focus shifts back to his laptop. He’s hunched over slightly– despite your best attempts to get him to fix his posture– and focused on the screen. He barely looks at the tablet he’s using, since it doesn’t have a proper display. You’d offered to get him a nicer one in the past, but he says he’s a lot better when he has to focus a bit harder.
JAKE: Whaddya workin on?
Dirk half-closes the screen before you can get a good look for yourself.
DIRK: Don’t look yet. I can’t get the proportions right and it looks kind of like shit.
JAKE: Aw cmon i bet it looks good!
JAKE: Youre a lot better at this artsy stuff than a lot of people.
JAKE: Or me at least.
DIRK: Thanks.
You cough a bit, making sure to catch it in your arm this time instead of right on Dirk. You start to wonder why he’s sitting right next to you, considering you’re probably contagious.
JAKE: Arent you worried im gonna get you sick?
JAKE: Itd be unfortunate if we were both sick as dogs and couldnt help each other out.
The corners of Dirk’s mouth perk up a bit, into what could barely be considered a smile– although you're pretty sure he thinks he’s fully grinning.
DIRK: Nah.
DIRK: I’m stronger than a little flu at the worst.
DIRK: Gotta make sure you’re comfortable too. I think that’s more important.
You shift around under the covers. You’re cooled down enough to not feel like a gross sweaty mess, but you aren’t particularly comfortable either. God, your throat feels hoarse.
JAKE: Can i take you up on your offer for tea now?
DIRK: Hell yeah.
Dirk closes his laptop for real this time and moves it, along with the tablet, to the desk in their room.
DIRK: Don’t die while I’m downstairs.
He leaves the room. Left to your own devices, and feeling well enough to at least get out of bed, you start looking around for the remote for your bedroom TV. Maybe you can use your state of mild patheticness to your advantage and get Dirk to watch a terrible awesome movie.
It’s dark in the room, which makes sense because you specifically requested it to be dark. Still, now that your head isn’t going to explode, you kind of wish you could see better. Doesn’t really matter if you have your glasses on or not if you can’t make out what the shadows around you are supposed to be.
As you’re patting around Dirk’s nightstand to see if he had the remote last, he walks back in. He’s carrying two mugs– one with the string of a teabag hanging out. You’re guessing the other is coffee for himself.
DIRK: Hope I got your honey and sugar preferences right.
DIRK: I know you like it sweeter but I’m not a good judge at how sweet something is.
JAKE: Oh welcome back.
JAKE: Can you pretty please turn the light on?
DIRK: Yeah, yeah.
DIRK: Your headache mostly gone, then?
JAKE: Well im not quite in tip top shape yet but i sure feel better than this morning.
Dirk hands you your mug and sits back next to you. You find the TV remote right on the edge of your stand.
JAKE: Wanna watch something?
JAKE: I get the choice in the matter.
DIRK: Man, what are you going to put on?
DIRK: Indiana Jones’ cousin… Texas Smith, or whatever?
DIRK: Tennessee Miller and That Weird Tomb Cave.
You give Dirk the saddest eyes you can fathom right now, which isn’t hard because being sick has made them more watery. You exaggerate a loud sniffle while staring straight at him.
DIRK: Okay, okay, fine.
You find a movie about a man stealing an artifact from a tomb and trying to rid himself of the curse– which is, of course, a very original plot idea and has never been done before. And the special effects look like they cost a maximum of five dollars from the movie’s twenty dollar budget. It’s amazing. Dirk complains lightheartedly about the movie having a 40-ish percent on whatever movie critic website he’s looking at. You’re pretty sure some of your enjoyment is amplified by slight feverish delirium, but you think it might be one of the best movies you’ve ever seen. At least, it would be, if you didn’t fall back asleep around an hour in.
You wake up again and the other side of the bed is empty. Your head feels like it’s swimming again. You’re tucked in neatly, with your glasses folded on your bedside table, and the empty bowl and mugs from earlier are nowhere in sight. Dirk must've cleaned up a bit. His side of the bed is cold– he’s been gone for a bit.
You grab the box of tissues and clear your nose with a gross honk-like noise. With no trash can around, you choose to put the tissue on your table instead, away from the rest of your little clutter.
You can tell through the window that the sun has set by now. Have you really spent the entire day sleeping? It’s not like you do much during your average day– electing to take big expedition gigs over day-to-day work– but you don’t like wasting whole days doing nothing. You feel cold. Really cold. These blankets aren’t doing enough for you. Where’s Dirk? Your head is going to explode, or squeeze itself shut, or something else gross.
You don't know how long you sit stewing when you hear the front door creak open and click shut. If you could get out of bed, you’d run to Dirk and give him a big kiss on the cheek.
A few minutes later, he’s standing in the doorway with a pizza, cheesy bread, and a glass of water.
DIRK: Hey.
DIRK: Sorry I left, or if it worried you.
DIRK: I wanted to make you spaghetti or something, but I had to run and get a part for a project, and then by the time I got out of the grocery store, it was dark.
DIRK: I hope you can handle pizza.
JAKE: Oh fuck yeah.
JAKE: You bet your biscuits i can always handle a pizza.
He hands you the glass of water, which you down, and open the box of pizza. Half pepperoni and ham– his– and half olive and bell pepper– yours.
You eat a couple of your slices faster than you realize. Were you really this hungry? Being sick really messes up something in you. Dirk’s eaten around half his first slice by the time you’ve eaten two. It’s not even that good, but something about the grease tastes especially good when your face is stuffed with snot.
DIRK: Damn, you must really not be nauseous.
DIRK: I think watching you inhale that made me nauseous, even.
JAKE: Oh shuddup.
JAKE: Im going to eat your meat lovers half if you dont finish that piece now.
DIRK: Hey, meat-lover’s is usually three meats.
DIRK: I only got two.
Despite his arguing, he still finishes the piece in his hand, staring you down as he chews on the last bite. You take another piece of your own half and eat that instead.
You end up finishing your half, and Dirk leaves two pieces for his lunch tomorrow. When he takes the box downstairs to refrigerate, he takes your glass as well to get you more water. Gotta stay hydrated, he insists.
It’s nice to feel so cared for, even if you feel like he’s going a little over the top. You don’t feel that bad, but he is hovering just a little bit. Not that you’d tell him that. You don’t want him thinking his help isn’t appreciated, or that you’d prefer if he didn’t help at all.
You go back to sleep, since there isn’t really much else to do. At some point, you feel Dirk climb into bed with you, which you would’ve objected to if you were awake enough to fully realize what he was doing. You’d be fine sleeping through the night– you don’t need him in the same bed even more than he has been, and risking himself getting sick as well.
You wake up with your fever back in full swing. Your eyes feel like they’re going to squeeze out of their sockets. The other half of the bed is empty again, but it’s still a little warm. Dirk must’ve gotten up recently.
Sure enough, a couple minutes later, he comes in with a tray of breakfast food– eggs, toast, bacon, and a side of fruit– along with tea and water.
DIRK: Hey, you’re up.
DIRK: You feeling any better.
You shrug.
JAKE: A bit.
JAKE: But my head still hurts and im really warm again.
Dirk nods and steps out of the room, coming back with medicine and an ice pack.
DIRK: Eat up before it gets cold.
You swallow the pills and place the ice pack on your forehead. It feels nice and cool, and the sweat running down your cheeks is replaced with the condensation. You eat the food up quickly again, barely taking the time to savor the flavors. The fruit in particular is good, although that’s probably what Dirk had the least involvement in making. It’s sweet and cool, and you’re reminded how it’s been a while since you’ve had real, good fruit.
After you finish your plate, you take note of how Dirk didn’t take any food for himself.
JAKE: Are you hungry?
JAKE: Dont let taking care of me stop you from taking care of yourself.
DIRK: Nah, I ate while I was cooking.
DIRK: I’m not too hungry anyway, don’t worry.
JAKE: Alright if you say so.
You sip at your tea. It’s sweeter than you’re expecting, and you try not to make a face. It’s not bad, by any means, but it's definitely not how you usually make it. You look at Dirk to see if he noticed anything, but he’s staring at nothing in the opposite direction. You finish the tea off quickly before he can notice any more reactions from you.
The rest of the day is spent watching more terrific movies, sleeping, and watching Dirk sketch away on his tablet. He still won’t show you what he’s working on, but you like seeing him so focused when he’s not paying attention to you. It’s like he’s in his own world.
Dirk makes you spaghetti for dinner like he’d offered the day before. It’s nothing too complicated, but it’s nice. Comfortable. He makes a big show of wiping off the bit of sauce around your mouth.
The next day is nowhere near as bad. You still take headache medicine, and you’re still sniffling, but you feel okay enough to do your own thing now. You get up– before Dirk does this time– and take a cold shower.
He’s still not awake by the time you get up, which is surprising, but you figure it’s better to let him rest. He’s been working hard trying to take care of you– even if it’s debatable how much you really needed it– and now he can take some time for himself.
You go downstairs and make yourself tea how you like it, and then start a pot of coffee for when Dirk wakes up. You consider for a second trying to make breakfast, but you’re not very good with a stove. Plus, you’re still a little weak and don’t think standing for that long over the heat would make you feel very good.
Half an hour later, you’re reading the newspaper as Dirk comes downstairs. He takes note of the coffee and pours himself a mug before sitting at the table with you.
JAKE: Good mornin!
JAKE: I must say im almost feeling like myself again!
JAKE: That pesky cold must be about over.
DIRK: Is that so?
DIRK: I’m glad to hear.
You think his voice sounds a little different than usual.
JAKE: Say is that a bit of congestion im picking up?
JAKE: Is someone else here starting to feel a little under the weather himself?
DIRK: Nah.
DIRK: You must be hearing things.
He’s definitely more nasally. And after he talked up a storm about not catching whatever you have.
The two of you spent the day in the workshop, on separate projects. You’re not nearly as good with robotics as he is, but it’s a fun hobby to get into, and you think it helps you understand him better.
You get fast food burgers for dinner, because you insist on getting some fresh air after spending two days holed up in your room. You drive with your window down the whole time, reveling in the breeze, while Dirk shivers lightly in the passenger seat. He’s not acclimated to colder temperatures usually, but he seems extra sensitive now.
The burgers are just okay, a little cold, but whatever. You think you stole a solid half of Dirk’s fries, but they were going to get cold if you didn’t. You don’t push him on why beyond light teasing met with dry chuckles.
You stay out a bit longer, sitting in the car and staring at the stars. It’s not like they’re that visible from where you guys live, but they’re a nice enough view for what the two of you are doing. Having a normal conversation with Dirk now is calming– fun, even. Even if the two of you are both congested as shit and it's clear in both your voices.
You begin the drive home when you notice Dirk is starting to fall asleep. He tends to stay up for days at a time, so his sudden tiredness does strike you a little odd, especially with how he slept in this morning. Regardless, you take him home and up to bed. He climbs in, not even bothering to take his jeans or shirt off, and falls right back asleep. You figure it's time for you to hit the hay anyway, and change into your own pajamas when you get in bed with him.
You don’t know how long you’re out for when you're woken up by the sound of retching from the bathroom next door. You shoot up, making sure you really heard it and it wasn’t from a dream. Sure enough, it starts back up a minute later.
You get out of bed and try to creep up on the bathroom, and find Dirk hunched over the toilet. Your bathroom is pretty small, but you close the door and slide down with as much distance between you two as you can fit.
Once he’s finished, he slides back and sits against the wall, barely acknowledging you. He curls up into himself, looking like a kid who just fell off his bike. You sit in silence for a minute, not knowing how to break the tension.
Unfortunately, it’s broken by itself when Dirk lunges back for the toilet and empties whatever’s left of his stomach. You didn’t know he had this much in him. Unsure of what to really do, you lean behind him and try to pull his spiky bangs– which have clung to his sweaty forehead– out of his face
After everything is out and he’s done dry heaving, he pulls away and leans into you. He’s soaked in sweat, and puke has splashed onto his shirt and hangs around his mouth. He’s trying to catch his breath.
You pat around his waist like he did for you, and, realizing what you’re doing, limply raises his arms up. You pull his t-shirt off him and use the cleaner part of the cloth to wipe his face up.
JAKE: Do you wanna just throw this shirt out?
He nods weakly into your chest. You lean over without disturbing him to put the shirt into your bathroom trash can.
JAKE: Do you want to go back to our room or camp out here? If you want to stay here i should get you some stuff to get comfortable.
DIRK: Here.
His voice is hoarse, raw from throwing up. He’s mumbling, also. You pet his hair lightly before pushing him up slightly to step out of the room.
You’re… not sure what to grab, actually. Dirk was a lot better at thinking practically about how to get you better and you don’t know how to do the same for him. You need water, probably, as well as blankets, and maybe something light to eat?
You find a couple packs of saltine crackers in the cabinet, which should work fine, and some more ragged blankets from your closet. It’s not that you don’t want him to be comfortable, but you’re worried about him ruining your really good blankets. Even if these ones are kind of thin, you think he’d appreciate whatever comfort he can get. You get some stomach medicine also and a glass of water.
When you get back to the bathroom, you immediately notice the overwhelming smell of air freshener. Dirk must’ve sprayed the one you keep in the bathroom. He’s laying on his stomach, one cheek planted right on the tile. He groans a little when he hears you come back in, meant more as an acknowledgement of your arrival than annoyance.
JAKE: Uh i got you water and medicine and blankets.
JAKE: Can you stand on your own or do you want me to help you cause i wanted to set these up for you to lay on.
JAKE: Like a makeshift sleeping bag i guess.
DIRK: Mgghnmmm.
DIRK: Can I keep laying on the tile?
DIRK: ‘T’s cold… feels nice.
He sounds half asleep. You hope he can fall asleep comfortably, and wake up feeling better. You slump down into the corner of the room, considering he’s taking up most of the bathroom by laying, and watch until his shoulders pick up and drop slowly with his light sleeping breaths.
You fall back asleep yourself, but it doesn’t last long before you’re awoken again by the sound of dry heaving. You weren’t in that deep of sleep anyway, but it shakes you awake from the uncomfortable way you’d crammed yourself to give Dirk the most room possible.
His stomach was already empty, so he’s just throwing up water, if that. He hangs over the toilet for a couple minutes after he’s done, unsure if anything else will come up. Once he’s fairly certain, he flushes and backs away again.
JAKE: Did you take the medicine?
JAKE: Dyou want more water?
He nods yes to both, and you fill up the cup with the sink water. He probably could’ve done it himself, but it’s about showing that you’re there for him more than anything.
He drinks the water slowly, letting some of it dribble down his face. You curl around him and lightly rub his back, which he seems to take well.
JAKE: I brought crackers for when youre ready to see if you can keep anything down.
He nods again, and leans against you to the best of his ability. The sweat makes him cling to you slightly, but his comfort is more important right now. You shift from rubbing his back to brushing his hair with your hand, since it’s easier with how he’s laying against you.
You two spend the day camped up in the bathroom, with Dirk occasionally eating a cracker or two, only for it to come right back up less than an hour later. At some point, you grab his laptop and turn on an anime he likes, even if he’s not really paying attention. If he was more lucid, you’re sure he’d complain about how you'd turned on the dub instead of the original language, but he’s too tired to read subtitles or be annoyed right now.
Near the end of the day, he’s curled up in a near-fetal position on the floor again. You’ve gotten him to wrap up in the blankets, but he still wants to lay against you. You suppose this is what you get for trying to stay by his side.
DIRK: I feel gross…
He mumbles out, and you almost don’t hear him. He turns around and looks at you.
DIRK: I’m all sweaty an’-an’ pukey…
JAKE: Do you want me to help you shower?
JAKE: Or bathing would probably be easier.
He thinks for a minute. You know he’s very particular about his showers, even in his heightened state of dependency. But, alas, he nods.
You start running a bath, asking him to tell you when the temperature is what he prefers. Once the tub is full, you help him fully undress and get in. It’s not like you’ve never seen him nude before, but this time it feels different. He’s relying on you for help, and by golly, you’re going to give him the best bath of his life.
Instead of Dirk’s favorite sponge, you take a new washcloth– one you can throw out when you’re done– and lather it in his preferred soap. It’s a fairly strong, husky, masculine smell, unlike the woodsy scents you prefer for yourself. He tries to not be too stiff, despite his discomfort, and you scrub him down.
After the soap is washed off, you can see his shoulder relax ever so slightly. It’s one burden lifted, and he feels cleaner. You’re more worried about his hair. For how Dirk gets about showering, you know it's only amplified for taking care of his hair. He’s put a lot of effort into getting it exactly how he likes it, and you really, really don’t want to ruin it.
You take a… decent amount of shampoo in your hands? If you’re being honest, you prefer the 3-in-1 stuff. You spend a lot of time out in the woods or jungles anyway, and being perfectly clean isn’t something too important to you. You’ve bathed with bars of soap in rivers and considered those the best shower experiences of your life, which would definitely make Dirk freak out if he tried.
You rub the shampoo into his hair, trying to massage his forehead at the same time. He seems to relax further at the feeling, which you take as a sign to keep going. Once the foam has covered your hands, you take the shower hose to rinse out his hair. Your hands aren’t gentle by any means, but you don’t seem to be hurting him, which is enough for you.
You take the conditioner next and only squeeze out a little. You vaguely remember Dirk telling you a while ago that it shouldn’t touch the scalp– which you took to personally mean never use conditioner with how short your hair is on its own. As you rub it into his hair, though, it already feels softer to the touch.
You wash that out too, and decide it’s time to be done. You help Dirk out of the tub, giving him a couple towels to dry himself off, and drain the water.
JAKE: Im gonna get you some clean clothes do you have any preferences?
He shrugs. You grab underwear and a pair of pajama pants, and look away as he puts them on– more out of politeness than anything. You sit back down on the bathroom floor, and Dirk curls up in your lap again. His wet hair is flattened for now, and it sticks to your clothes
You slide the sleeve of crackers his way, and he takes a couple to lazily chew on. He seems pretty sure they’re coming right back up by his reluctance to eat them, but he could just as likely be sick of dry, blank crackers.
He falls asleep on you, which, as much as you’d like to wrap your arms back around him, you'd hate to trap him in place if he wakes up suddenly to puke again. You elect to play with his hair instead while it’s still damp, messing with the little spikes and making little hearts out of curlier strands.
The next day is much of the same, although he’s hurling less frequently. You pat his face off with a cold, wet cloth when he gets sweaty, and trace little circles on his back to give him something else to focus on.
The third day isn’t any better. You thought it’d be a good idea to try to get Dirk to eat something a bit more substantial, since he hasn’t been absorbing any kind of nutrients the past couple days. You microwave some canned soup like he did for you, and spoonfeed it to him. If he wasn’t sick, you're sure he’d laugh at how you’d refused to be spoonfed and yet insisted on doing it for him. Instead, he leans into each bite, looking straight at the spoon instead of you.
He hasn’t been wearing his shades this entire time– which makes sense, since they’d definitely have fallen in the toilet already. His usually vibrant orange eyes look more of a sickly yellow, and the bags under them look more sunken in than usual, somehow. He’s been avoiding eye contact with you for as long as you’ve both been in this bathroom. Not that he’s too big on it when he’s well, but it feels far more intentional this time.
Predictably, most of the soup comes right back up. You’ve gotten pretty desensitized to the sounds and smell by now, but the experience of actually puking hasn’t become any less miserable for Dirk. He always spends a couple minutes hovering over the toilet still, trying to blink away the tears that force their way up with the pressure and taking deep, pained breaths. You don’t know what to do to help. You can’t really stop him from throwing up, and you’re sure this is one of those things you just gotta wait out.
After most of the soup is gone, Dirk lays against your shoulder. Even while terribly sick, he’s still clinging onto you like crazy. You feel the pressure of his head laying against you, and then the sudden ever-so-slight bob of moving shoulders. And then a light sniffle.
JAKE: Are you crying?
DIRK: You got sick, an’ I thought I could take care o’ you, but I just got sick myself an’ made you take care o’ me instead.
His voice is nearly gone from the stomach acid tearing his throat raw, but you can make out what he’s saying just fine.
DIRK: I wanted t’ be the one t’ nurse you back t’ health, an’ then I’d be so cool an’ the one that saved you.
DIRK: But I just made it worse for you.
DIRK: An’ you would’ve been fine without my help.
DIRK: An’ I’unno what I would’ve done if you weren't here.
DIRK: Thi’ is so terrible, isn’t it?
You could probably count the number of times you've seen Dirk cry on one hand, and that includes single tears running down his cheek during an especially emotional movie. He’s not full-on sobbing yet, but the tears are running down pretty fast, and his breathing is speeding up.
JAKE: Hey what no.
JAKE: You arent bad just because you fell a little under the weather.
JAKE: It happens to everyone!
JAKE: Why even if you did go a bit over the top in trying to help me im glad you tried at all.
JAKE: And id be delighted in returning the favor and seeing to your health as well.
JAKE: Even if i think im quite inexperienced in that regard.
Dirk rolls around on you slightly, burying his face in your shirt.
DIRK: You’re too nice t’ me…
DIRK: Nicer than I deserve.
He falls asleep shortly after, still pressed pretty hard into your chest. You do as well, right over him.
The fourth day isn’t nearly as bad. Dirk drinks more water than he had the past couple days, and manages to keep something down. You both take this as a win, considering how sick you are of the bathroom tile floor. Dirk takes a shower– on his own this time– while you work on cleaning up the bathroom. You disinfect the hell out of the toilet, as well as just tossing the blankets the two of you used.
You can’t really get Dirk to eat a full meal yet– he says he’s concerned with overwhelming himself and puking again– but he’s free from a saltine cracker prison.
DIRK: I don’t think I’m ever eating those shitty ass crackers again.
DIRK: If it gets that bad again, you’re gonna have to find something else cardboard-adjacent for me to chew on.
JAKE: Haha!
JAKE: I missed you chum.
JAKE: Well i mean you werent gone but you know i missed joking with you and whatnot.
JAKE: I got the real dirk back now!
JAKE: …
JAKE: Did you mean it when you said im too good for you?
DIRK: Oh god, don’t use my sick words against me.
DIRK: The last, like, entire week is a haze.
JAKE: Yeah i guess so.
JAKE: I guess i thought thered be more to say.
JAKE: No problemo though! Not a big deal by any stretch.
JAKE: …
JAKE: If youre feeling up for it do you want to go for a hike tomorrow?
JAKE: I think some mountain air could be good and we wouldnt have to go that far.
DIRK: Yeah, that could be nice.
DIRK: …
DIRK: I love you.