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“Daddy I’m sick.”
Oliver looks miserable and sounds even worse. He’s dressed in orange dinosaur pajamas but isn’t wearing socks or slippers. He’s sitting curled up against Ryan’s chest and Michael can see Oliver’s little arms reaching out to hold onto the iPad he’s sure Ryan has propped up against his knees.
Oliver coughs to prove his point but the cough is deep and Ryan has to rub his back to get him to stop.
“Woah Bud. You okay?” Michael asks.
He’s in a hotel room in Scotland doing press for a golf tournament the next day. He’s been gone for four days. When he’d left Oliver had been sniffling but hadn’t been really sick. Michael pulls out his phone and starts typing an email about the possibilities of bailing out.
“Put down your phone I can see you.” Ryan calls out. “He’s fine.”
“Not fine.” Oliver argues.
“He doesn’t sound fine.” Michael agrees.
“It’s just the flu.”
Michael can’t see Ryan’s face but he sees Ryan’s hand brush through Oliver’s hair. Oliver closes his eyes and both his arms fall back to his side, the iPad wobbles a bit.
“He’s tired.” Michael points out.
“We went to the doctor this morning and she said to just keep him hydrated and make sure he sleeps a lot. He should be better by the time you come back. I got this under control dude.” Ryan reassures.
Ryan readjusts Oliver and Oliver whines before opening his eyes.
“My throat hurts dad… My head feels funny. I want you ho-ome.” Oliver whines again.
Despite Ryan’s reassurances Michael keeps typing the email and hits send.
“I’ll come home Bud.” Michael tells him, “I’m far away though so it’s going to take a little bit to-“
“He’s fine Mike, he’s playing you.” Ryan groans, “I got this. Stay where you are, play golf and-“
“Does Tal have it too?” Michael asks suddenly concerned that Ryan is waging a losing battle against two sick kids.
“No.” Ryan moves the iPad up so Michael can see his face; “I brought him to my mom’s until this dude’s not contagious anymore. We're good, Gator’s just being a brat.”
“He’s sick.” Michael defends their five year old.
“He has the flu he’ll be okay.” Ryan rolls his eyes, he pushes Oliver's hair back off his face and leans down to kiss his head. “You can’t like run home every time he wants you to-“
“You lasted two days in New York last time.” Michael reminds Ryan, “You can’t talk.”
Ryan shrugs but doesn't deny it. They try to not be away from the boys for more than a day. They take family trips to Los Angeles or New York when business calls them there but sometimes bringing two boys under five isn't the logical choice. Ryan's New York meetings had been right after Talan's eye surgery and so Michael had opted to stay home with them. This time around, neither of them had wanted to deal with jet lagged kids; Oliver had been a mess for weeks after Rio. It had taken eight days to get him to sleep through the night again.
“Don't cut your trip short MP.” Ryan says again but his voice is softer, “He should feel better by tomorrow and Tal's getting spoiled as hell by my mom, it's just Gator and me. I can deal.”
They don't end the call but neither of them talk. Michael watches Oliver sleep while Ryan rubs his thumb across his cheek and Ryan rests the iPad back against his knees. An ocean away it almost feels like being home.
“Is he keeping you up?” Michael asks because Ryan looks almost as tired as Oliver.
“I let him sleep in our bed.” Ryan admits sheepishly, “Just to make sure he's okay, he's been sleeping, he has like zero energy it's super weird, it's like not our kid you know?”
“But the doctor said he was okay? Like it's def just flu?”
“She said if it's still like this in two days or if his fever's still up to go back in for chest x-rays because it could be pneu-”
Oliver coughs and Ryan stops talking. He puts his hand in front of Oliver's mouth and then wipes it on his shirt.
“I miss you daddy.” Oliver pulls the iPad back down and coughs again. “Daddy misses you.”
Michael sees Ryan’s hand rub Oliver’s back and watches him press his palm to their son’s forehead and cheeks.
“Is he hot?” Michael asks, wishing he could be there to offer his opinion.
“It's better. He isn’t eating though, he threw up his breakfast like everywhere... Everywhere.” Ryan adds for emphasis, “He won’t eat anything. My mom made soup for him.”
“You gotta eat for me Ols okay? Dad’s gonna give you soup.” Michael can see Oliver's not the least bit interested.
“It hurts my throat and it’s hot. No.” Oliver makes a face and whines, “I want you to give me soup.”
“You need to eat Bud.” Michael tries again, “I'll be back when you wake up tomorrow. You have to eat first.”
“I don’t wanna.” Oliver argues. “My head hurts.”
Michael watches Oliver snuggle in closer to Ryan. His hand plays with the zipper of Ryan's green hoodie and he unzips it down all the way and wraps the side of the hoodie around himself. Oliver has no concept of personal space when it comes to them.
“Maybe Dad can give you a popsicle. That won't hurt your throat Bud.” Michael says hoping that they do have popsicles and he hasn't just created a potential tantrum.
“I want you.” Oliver gives one more pathetic cough.
“What about me Gator?” Ryan jokingly zips up his hoodie over Oliver like he did when Oliver was still just a baby.
“If he's running a fever maybe you shouldn't have him on you.” Michael offers, knowing that Ryan gives out enough body heat to raise anyone's temperature.
“Yeah. Gator go sit on your own on the other side of the couch.” Ryan nudges Oliver who's still snuggled in his hoodie.
“No Daddy.” Oliver turns his face towards Ryan's chest.
“He'll move if he gets too hot.” Ryan reasons, “He's kind of like velcro today.”
Michael taps the screen of his phone impatiently waiting for an answer or a flight confirmation or anything that can tell him he's one step closer to being on the other side of the iPad screen.
He knows that Ryan can hold down the fort and that Ryan is probably more skilled at taking care of a sick kid than he is. Ryan has never ending patience for story reading and orange juice getting and back rubbing. Ryan will freeze juice into popsicles and add more noodles to soup and take all the carrots out of the bowl. Ryan will let a five year old with a snotty nose use his hoodie as a sleeping bag.
“He's asleep.” Ryan says after a few minutes.
Michael looks back up at the iPad and sees that Oliver's head has fallen back against the arm of the couch leaning against Ryan's arm.
“Go put him to bed and like his bed, not ours you'll get sick.” Michael warns, “Then I'll have to take care of both of you.”
“You don't have to come home Mike.” Ryan groans, “He's so playing you. I got this.”
“I know you do. I just miss-” Michael doesn't finish because he figures Ryan understands.
He misses Oliver's kindergarten story and Talan climbing on his lap to watch television. He misses watching Herman hovering under Talan's high chair waiting for food and how Talan laughs when the dogs lick his feet. He misses listening to Ryan hold conversations with Oliver. He just misses being home.
“Whatever dude.” Ryan concedes, “Do I gotta pick you up? 'Cause if this punk's still not feeling up to it-”
“Don't, I'll get a car.” Michael says, “I'll be there by tomorrow lunch.”
“Wanna like come with me to tuck him in?” Ryan offers, “He's kinda dead to the world though.”
“I need to pack, just tell Ols I love him.” Michael stares hard at the screen and is jealous that Ryan's home and he's so far away.
“Dude I do, c'mon.”
“I love you too.” Michael adds because without Ryan he wouldn't have a place or a sick kid to go home to.
Because the Ryan he met in Athens, the Ryan who peed out of their olympic village room window on a dare is now too concerned about their five year old to let him sleep in a different room. Because Ryan's cleaned up puke, taken Oliver to the doctors and wiped a runny nose yet he still manages to try and talk Michael into staying. Ryan's capacity to care is seemingly never ending and Michael loves him for it.
“Yo come back.” Ryan snaps his fingers right in front of the microphone.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
“That you can show me how much tomorrow.” Ryan raises an eyebrow, “You can thank me for staying home with your brat.”
Michael loves that even though Ryan's grown up, he's still Ryan.
*
Michael thinks of stopping to get Talan but decides against it until he sees how Oliver's feeling. He gets to the house and walks in through the garage door and notices that the kitchen is spotless. There's an empty soup bowl on the kitchen table but everything else is tidy. Ryan's cleaner than he is.
He doesn't yell out in case Oliver is sleeping. He finds Oliver asleep in his bed with all his blankets thrown on the floor and Stella sprawled out next to him. Oliver's feet are on his pillow and his head is resting against Stella's side. Michael decides to leave him be to go find Ryan.
Ryan's in their bed with the blankets pulled up over his head. Carter watches guard at the foot of the bed while Herman sleeps on a pillow next to the laundry basket. Michael smiles, takes his shirt off and slips under the covers to press against his husband.
Ryan's skin feels warmer than usual and when Michael leans forward to kiss him he spots the dozen kleenexes on Ryan's bedside table.
“S'hot.” Ryan mumbles and his voice sounds like his throat is sore. He sleepily shoves Michael away from him with his shoulder. “Off.”
“You got sick dork.” Michael says concerned.
“'Cause your brat coughs in my face.” Ryan mutters and he tries to shove Michael away again.
“He's your brat too.” Michael drapes one arm across Ryan's waist and pulls him close. He presses his other hand against Ryan's forehead
“Not when he gets me sick.” Ryan whines, “I just wanna sleep. Don't.”
Ryan's definitely running a fever. Michael pulls the blankets off him and Ryan mumbles out a few choice swear words before trying to tug the blankets back.
“You can't keep all the blankets if you have a fever.” Michael tries to reason.
“No you have a fever.” Ryan groans in complaint and tugs back harder.
“Were you sick yesterday?” Michael ignores Ryan's insults because he knows a sick Ryan is more of a five year old than a sick Oliver.
“Sto-op.” Ryan flails an arm back to hit Michael, “Bad. Stop.”
“Fine.” Michael throws the blankets back over Ryan and pulls his arm away, “I'll go-”
“No.” Ryan turns over, tangling himself in the blankets. He coughs and leans his head against Michael's bare shoulder. “Missed you.”
“Me too.” Michael rubs Ryan's back, “Want me to stay?”
“I wanna sleep.” Ryan coughs again.
Michael runs his fingers through Ryan's short hair, rubbing them in circles right behind Ryan's ear until Ryan's eyes close. Once Michael knows Ryan's asleep, he pulls his arm away and takes the comforter off Ryan. Michael clucks his tongue at Carter to get him to follow out of the room but Carter jumps up over Ryan and settles himself on Michael's side of the bed. Only Herman follows him out of the master bedroom.
Down the hall in his green bedroom with the camouflage printed bedsheets (which is what happens when you let Ryan meet alone with the interior decorator) Oliver is still sleeping in the same position, with one of his little hands softly petting Stella's ear. Herman who had been lumbering behind Michael suddenly wakes and jumps up on the bed.
Michael reaches for his collar a second too late because Herman's already licking Oliver's face.
Oliver scrunches up his nose and moves one hand to push the dog away. He snuggles closer to Stella and after a few seconds his breathing evens out again. Michael grabs Herman by the collar to pull him off Oliver's bed and Herman barks.
“Dude. You're out.” Michael whispers at him.
Herman barks again and Michael carries him out to the hallway, puts him on the other side of the baby gate they have up for Talan and walks back into Oliver's room.
Oliver's awake and stretching. His hair is sticking up everywhere, his eyes are bleary and
the skin around his nose is red.
“Morning Bud.” Michael sits on the side of Oliver's bed and reaches for the comforter Oliver's thrown on the ground.
“I'm sick.” Oliver says and he coughs to prove his point.
“I know.” Michael wraps Oliver in the comforter and kisses his forehead to feel his temperature; Oliver's warmer than Ryan, “Does your throat still hurt?”
Oliver nods and struggles to get his arms out of the blanket. He reaches up and wraps them around Michael's neck. Oliver smells like Vick's Vapour Rub and bubblegum shampoo. He coughs and doesn't cover his mouth and turns his head around to wipe his nose on the sleeve of his pyjamas.
Michael leans back against the head of the way too small bed and lets Oliver climb into his lap.
“I missed you Bud.” Michael says, pushing Oliver's hair off his forehead and flattening the pieces of it sticking up with the palm of his hand afterwards.
“You were away so long.” Oliver complains, “Four sleeps.”
“I'm sorry.” Michael apologizes. He feels Oliver's forehead again to decide if he's warm enough to get the thermometer.
They'd had Oliver too soon after getting back together. It had made sense in the beginning but soon after Oliver's birth the cracks in their relationships had started to show. They both hated to admit it but Oliver's first few years had been rough and he'd been witness to fights they were both ashamed of now. Leaving Oliver always reminded Michael of the weekends he'd dropped him off to be with Ryan. Michael knows that Oliver was probably too young to remember the fights and the back and forth visits but he clings to them more than Talan does. It might be because he's older but sometimes Michael can't help but think that it's because Oliver remembers him not coming back.
“I'm hungry.” Oliver says finally. He reaches up to put both his hands on the sides of Michael's face.
“Yeah? I'll make you breakfast, what do you want?”
“Popsicle.” Oliver says hopefully.
“That's not breakfast.”
“But my throat hurts.” Oliver pouts.
“Pancakes?” Michael offers, “I'll put chocolate chips in them.”
Oliver shakes his head and makes a face. Michael then remembers Ryan saying that Oliver had thrown up his breakfast the day before. Popsicles suddenly become an acceptable breakfast option.
“You can have a popsicle but you gotta get downstairs.”
“Carry me.” Oliver demands, he goes fully limp on Michael's lap.
“You can walk. Your legs are fine.”
“Daddy carried me.” Oliver says, “I'm too tired to walk. I'm sick.”
Michael ends up carrying Oliver, still wrapped in his comforter, downstairs.
*
Oliver eats a popsicle and some cereal sitting on the couch watching cartoons. Michael lies down on the opposite side and closes his eyes, the flight and jetlag finally kicking his ass.
Michael's taken Oliver's temperature and given him more medication and once he's done eating Oliver lies down next to him. It's a sure tell sign he's not feeling well because Oliver is usually too busy being Oliver to sit quietly and watch anything.
Oliver sneezes and then coughs and whines softly.
“You'll feel better soon Bud.” Michael pulls the comforter Oliver left on his side of the couch and tucks it over his son, “Just try to sleep.”
Oliver's still burning up and Michael feels his forehead every few minutes and presses his cheek against the top of Oliver's hair concerned that his fever isn't dropping. He tries to remember how long Ryan had said their pediatricians had told them wait before bringing him back in.
“Do you want to drink more juice?” Michael hands him a juice box.
Oliver just pushes it away and kicks the comforter off. He flops on his back and then on his side and his hand pushes at Michael's face. Finally he settles down with his head hanging off the side of the couch supported by Michael's hand.
He falls asleep like this and Michael carefully guides his head back on the couch but doesn't move to go get the thermometer or the number for the doctor's office. He watches Oliver sleep more than he watches the Spiderman cartoon.
Michael dozes off too and he wakes up to Oliver's arm across his face and with Oliver drooling against his chest. He looks up and finds Ryan looking at both of them from behind the back of the couch.
“What's going on?” Ryan says sounding a lot better, “What are we watching?”
Ryan plops himself down on the couch and lies down behind Michael, propping his head up against a cushion he grabs off the floor.
“I don't know.” Michael admits. He moves forward to give Ryan more room careful to not push Oliver off the couch. “It was spiderman, now it's-”
“Dora.” Ryan scrunches up his face, “Lame.” He kisses Michael's shoulder first and then reaches across him to stroke Oliver's face.
Ryan's warm too and in between him and Oliver, Michael feels like he's in a sauna but this is home and he's not going to complain.
“He still has a fever.” Ryan says putting his palm over half of Oliver's face and then over the top of his head.
“So do you.” Michael pulls Ryan's hand off Oliver's face before it wakes him up.
“I'm not five, it's not the same. Did he drink anything?”
“No, he had a popsicle and some cereal though.”
“He didn't eat the cereal, the bowl's full.” Ryan puts his hand on Oliver's side instead, tracing the dinosaurs on his pajamas with his fingers.
“How are you doing?” Michael asks, craning his neck to look up at Ryan.
“Ok.” Ryan bends down and kisses a spot near Michael's mouth, “Missed you.”
“Yeah same.” Micheal kisses him back full on the mouth.
“That's how you get sick.” Ryan pushes his face away, “I missed your mouth on purpose jerk.”
“Ow.” Michael feels a hand pull his hair.
“No.” Oliver's voice is sleepy and rough. He keeps pulling Michael's hair and pushes his free hand against Ryan's face.
“Dude who are you mad at?” Ryan pretends to eat Oliver's fingers but Oliver doesn't laugh, he just frowns at both of them.
“His hand's against your face.” Michael points out.
“He's pulling your hair.”
“Move.” Oliver whines and pushes Ryan again.
“He's my husband.” Ryan tells Oliver in a tone Michael's heard in bars and on the beach.
“My daddy.” Oliver says in a matching tone with all of his five years' worth of attitude to back his words up.
“He was my husband before he was your dad so-” Ryan says again.
Oliver pushes Ryan's face one more time before he turns away back towards the television.
“Is this an abusive relationship?” Ryan laughs pointing between Michael and Oliver, “Cause he's super possessive”
“He's sick, he's bein-”
“If he hits you and stuff you can tell me.” Ryan says in mock concern.
“Shut up.” Michael tries to move to get more space, “Dude you're like a million degrees.”
“Yeah I'm sick. You're taking care of me.”
“You can get your own popsicles.” Michael tells him and he wraps his arm back around Oliver who's on the verge of falling off the couch.
“There's something that'll make me feel better a popsicle.” Ryan says, his mouth inches from Michael's ear.
“You have a fever. Sleep.” Michael rolls his eyes.
"You haven't been home for four days, I don't care." Ryan doesn't back away, he kisses behind Michael's ear and down to his neck.
Oliver coughs and whimpers and rubs a hand against his nose until Michael hands him a kleenex. Oliver stars coughing again and both Ryan and Michael wait for him to stop. When he does stop, Oliver's breathing hard.
“I'm dizzy. It feels like I'm choking.” Oliver complains and he sounds like he's on the verge of tears.
“It's okay Bud.” Michael kisses Oliver's head while Ryan reaches back to start tracing dinosaurs again.
“You need to eat food Gator.” Ryan tries, “The medication makes you loopy if you don't eat.”
“Not hungry.” Oliver argues and he's definitely started to cry. “I'm sick.”
“I know.” Ryan appeases and he uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe tears off Oliver's face “But you won't feel better if you don't eat. D'you want toast or soup.”
“No.” Oliver shakes his head and hides his face against the couch cushion.
“Toast or soup, pick one.” Ryan insists.
Oliver doesn't answer or talk his face stays hidden in the cushion and his shoulders keep heaving with sobs. It breaks Michael's heart.
“He's just tired.” Ryan offers, “Like he's sick and he can't deal with himself. It kills me too but like he'll be okay. Ols. toast or soup? You pick or I pick Gator.”
“Soup.” Oliver says finally. “No carrots and juice.”
Michael runs his fingers through Oliver's hair, something that puts Talan and Ryan to sleep but just calms Oliver down.
“That's a good choice Gator.” Ryan reaches over Michael to kiss Oliver's shoulders, “We can all eat soup.”
“Carry me.” Oliver demands of no one in particular, “I'm sick.”
“You carry me.” Ryan retorts, “I'm sick too.”
“I'm not sick, I'll get the soup.” Michael decides. He stretches out and sits up before grabbing the still full juice box on the coffee table, he hands it to Oliver who pushes it away again.
Ryan flips over on his back and pulls Oliver up against his chest. Michael feels his heart squeeze and this is without a doubt the only place he wants to be.
“It's in the fridge.” Ryan yawns, “My mom made it you just gotta heat it up.”
“Yeah, you two just sleep. I'll make soup when you wake up.”
*
By the time the soup is ready, both Ryan and Oliver are sleeping again and Michael doesn't have the heart to wake them up. Ryan has both of his arms protectively wrapped around Oliver and Oliver's fingers are curled around the neck of Ryan's shirt.
Michael lets them sleep like this for half an hour before he decides to just put Oliver to bed. The medication's kicked in and Oliver doesn't feel as warm. Michael kisses his forehead, tucks him into sheets he knows Oliver will just eventually kick off and closes the door to prevent the dogs from getting in.
Ryan's still sleeping on the couch and Michael takes the camouflage printed comforter and covers him up with it.
“Don't go.” Ryan grabs his arm and pulls him down next to him, “Make me feel better.”
Michael lies back and lets Ryan curl up against him. He slides one hand under Ryan's t-shirt and strokes his back. Ryan is still too warm but holding him is comforting and Michael closes his eyes too.
Ryan kisses him first and wraps his leg over Michael's hip. He has to pull away a few seconds later to cough.
“Sexy.” Michael says rubbing Ryan's back until his coughing fit goes away.
“Shut up.” Ryan wipes tears out of his eyes and clears his throat. He rubs a hand over his face and leans his head back down on Micheal's chest.
“Don't come home Mike.” Michael says in a mock impersonation of Ryan, “I got this dude. Don't come home.”
“Whatever.” Ryan says but he squeezes Mike's arm affectionately, “You missed me more.”
“Whatever” Michael slides his hand back under Ryan's shirt and runs his fingers over Ryan's abs. “Home's better.”