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Your boyfriend is tucked into a huge blanket, softly snoring on the couch. He finally looks peaceful, and you feel relieved.
He's sick. Like, really sick. Like nose-dripping and sore throat and fever sick.
He came home last night from a late night flight back to London while you were sleeping. He's gotten so good at being quiet that you didn't even hear him come in. You were only woken up when he crawled into bed and snuggled into you. You vaguely remember telling him you were glad he was home and squeezing his hand before drifting off to sleep again.
That morning you awoke to a sleeping boyfriend and six new text messages on your phone.
1:04 AM - Kyle
hey!!!!!!! so dan is sick btw.
1:04 AM - Kyle
seriously, he's miserable. you should make him soup!
1:04 AM - Kyle
and save me some!
1:05 AM - Kyle
i love your soup
1:32 AM - Woody
Hey, just wanted to let you know that Dan caught the flu right after our last show. He didn't tell you because he didn't want to worry you. Hope you're doing well! Take care of that asshole xx
1:47 AM - Will
dan didn't want us to worry you but he's rly sick! thought it was ok to tell you now since we're home (WE ALL FELT GUILTY). tell him to take it easy, we've got everything covered.
It warmed your heart to see that they cared enough to message you about it, but it also worried you. He must be really sick, you thought before giving him a once over. You noticed his nose was a little red, and that his breathing didn't sound great. You softly raised a hand to his forehead and found it too hot and too clammy for your liking. You decided to let him sleep in, hoping he'd be able to sleep it off.
Thankfully, it was Saturday so you didn’t have to worry about going to work. You caught up on some reading and did a few chores around the apartment, trying to be a quiet as possible. When Dan still hadn’t woken up near noon, you decided to go check up on him.
You walked in to find a pile of kleenex on the floor and the box on the pillow next to him. Poor boy, you thought. You sat on the bed next to him and touched his forehead. He sleepily blinked a couple of times and looked up at you.
“Hey”.
“Hey.”
“How are you doing?” You asked softly.
“I’m pretty good,” he smiled meekly.
“Yeah? ‘Cause your forehead's temperature is telling me otherwise,” you replied.
“I… yeah, I definitely caught something. I feel like shit,” he said, giving you a tight smile.
He looked absolutely miserable, hair sad and floppy and eyes bleary. You ran your fingers through his hair.
“You know, the guys texted me. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”
“Damn. Those bastards.” He at least had the decency to look a bit guilty. “I got sick right after the last show, and only had to do a bit of press after, so it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t want you to worry.”
You raised your eyebrows.
“You’re a worrier!”
“Well, I appreciate the concern, but you look pretty darn awful right now.” He laughed at that. “And I think you should be the one we’re worrying about”.
You took his hand.
“Come on, it’s time to get up, mister. You might be sick but you can’t stay in bed all day. At least come lie down on the sofa”.
Weakly, he followed you to the sofa in the living room and proceeded to basically collapse into it. You brought over your comforter and his box of tissues, then went back to get his phone in the bedroom, since you knew he'd want to stay on top of things even if he was sick.
“You want a Tylenol for the fever?” You asked after he was settled.
“Yeah, thanks.”
You brought over some Tylenol and some honey and lemon tea for his throat.
“You wanna watch some TV?” You suggest.
“Watch with me?”
“Sure,” you said. “But no David Lynch!” You quickly added.
“Oh, come on! I’m sick”.
“Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Don’t give me that look. I am not watching Mulholland Drive again.”
“What look?” He asked, innocently blinking up at you.
“That puppy dog thing. Stop! I can’t handle those eyes,” you whine.
He smiled, a little colour returning to his dimpled cheeks.
Damn, you hated that smile. Okay, you loved it. It was a beautiful smile. But it was dangerous. Coupled with the look he was presently giving you, he had the power to make you do whatever he pleased.
“Okay, I’m putting on the movie, but I’m leaving to make you some soup. You haven’t eaten at all today”.
“I wanted to watch with you though,” he said, looking up at you hopefully.
Damn those big blue eyes. And that soft hair. And those dimpled cheeks.
“Daaaaan. No. Besides, I promised Kyle I’d make you some soup”.
Using all the willpower stored up inside you, you left Dan in the living room with the movie on.
------
You went back to check on him a few minutes later and found him asleep again, tucked in his blanket and snoring softly. He looks peaceful and you feel relieved. He looks like he's going to be fine.
You don’t want to disturb him, so you lower the volume on the television and go back to the kitchen. You flip through a magazine while the soup simmers. You even text a picture of the soup to Kyle, just to torture him a bit.
Twenty minutes later you bring the soup up in a platter and you sit down beside Dan on the sofa. You run your hand over his hair and softly kiss his forehead and then his lips.
“Hey,” he says sleepily. “Stop kissing me, you’re going to get sick”.
“I’m sorry, you just looked really kissable,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. “And, actually, I got sick while you were away. Hopefully I’m immune”.
“You got sick?”
“Yeah, and my boyfriend wasn’t even there to make me soup”.
It wasn’t your intention, but he actually looks a little guilty.
“I’m really sorry that I’m not around much…”
“Dan, it’s ok.”
“Sometimes I feel like it’s not.”
“It is,” you reply seriously. Because it is. Even if it’s lonely sometimes...
You grab his hand and delicately run your thumb along it.
“I brought you some soup,” you say, changing the subject and handing him the bowl.
“Mmmm, thank you,” he says appreciatively.
You get up and move to sit at the end of the sofa. Dan moves his legs to let you sit and brings them back up to rest in your lap.
“So, how come you didn’t tell me you were sick?” He asks between spoonfuls of soup.
“Well… I didn’t want you to worry. I mean, it’s not like you could have done anything about it. You were in… uh, France, I think?”
“Really? So you didn’t want me to worry, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.”
“Huh.”
“If you shut up I’ll finish watching the movie with you,” you say.
“Deal”.
You both laugh.
After digging around the couch a bit, you find the remote. You turn up the volume and settle in to finish watching the movie with him. Yeah, you’ll do just about anything for those blue eyes and that smile.