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Francis had been trying to pay attention to the lecture for the last 30 minutes, but it had been proving to be difficult given that it felt like his head was full of weighted marbles.
Francis hacked into his arm, desperately trying to keep his droopy eyelids from completely closing. He tried to focus on what his professor was saying through the brain fog and high-pitched ringing in his ears, scribbling down messy borderline nonsense in his notebook, attempting to get any information down so that he could study from later.
He coughed again, gaining him judgy looks from his fellow peers, some of which leaning away so they wouldn't be in range of his fits of wheezing. He wiped his nose with his sleeve, trying to blink away the sensitivity that he was having all of a sudden from the lecture hall's lights, and overall feeling miserable.
but it was evident,
he couldn't possibly deny it now,
he was sick.
As much as he tried to fight it, ignore the fact that he felt like there was a sheet of ice coating his skin and a furnace burning at 1000° in his chest, battle through the headache and screw the runny nose;
he was sick.
he put his hand up
"Professor. Federman? would it be okay if I went back to my dormitory? I think I'm coming down with a fever..." his voice sounded like gravel
"Yes, Francis. you don't have to ask, you can just leave then send me an email"
Francis slid all of his belongings into his bag and stumbled out of the room, embarrassed that out of all the people in this class he was the one who had to leave early.
He could have sworn the walk back to the dorm wasn't this long, though he wasn't exactly walking, more throwing himself about and letting his legs catch him.
His vision was spinning and fuzzy, sweat making his hair slick to his forehead.
how embarrassing that he got sick, he never gets sick! He prided himself on his impeccable hygiene and how much he cared about sanitizing all of his sciencey equipment before and after he used it.
But he had, somehow.
As he hobbled back to his dorm, he worried if his roommate was in, Hank McJones.
Him and Francis the day before got into a heated argument. he couldn't quite remember what it was about, battling through layer after layer of delirium, but he knew that it was pretty bad, and that he didn't want to deal with him when he was like... this, especially how angry they both got, Hank would just smother him in his sleep.
luckily for him, after the fight Hank didn't want to spend the night with him so he decided to sleep at one of his friends, leaving him to get on with his current ailment.
Francis rummaged through his bag, swaying on his feet, desperately looking for the keys.
When he did, it took him a couple of attempts to get the key in and turn it, but when he did he collapsed into the room.
He threw his bag at the end of his bed and grabbed the first pair of pyjamas he could find. Noting how loose they felt, he stumbled into the bathroom to wash his face, and wow, he looked awful.
He was pale, paler than normal, well other than his cheeks and nose being completely red and his eyebags deeper and darker than they usually are.
His whole face was glistening with sweat, dampening the hair around his hairline making him look greasy and gross.
He groaned, how was he even allowed into class?
He bent over the sink to wash a layer or two of sweat off, before swallowing some Tylenol to keep his headache at bay, grimacing at the flavour.
When he was done writing emails to all his professors, telling them he wouldn't be in for the next couple of days, he practically fell into bed, drawing the covers over his head, just wanting to sleep through the fever.
Francis imagined this was how Victorian orphans felt while dying of the bubonic plauge;
was that in the Victorian era?
God, he was 70% sure his brain was rotting in his skull.
He angled his head to dramatically cough into his pillow, limbs sprawled out across his bed, noticing his dark grey pyjama top, did he have a dark grey pyjama top-? This fever was beginning to feel more like a curse; bedridden, unable to attend class or study, forced to lay in a pool of his own sweat, head full of static and fog. He passed out a couple of times, being met with disturbing fever dreams, leaving him in a cold sweat, so he decided to just stare at Hanks bed for the time being.
in a weird way, he wished Hank was there. No clue why,
maybe for care? company? someone to talk to?
who knows, but he knew he wouldn't be back until tonight, and he would have already passed out by then, so that probably wouldn't be happening. but he still stared, trying to imagine him working on his computer, quietly muttering to himself like he usually did... which was immediately disturbed by a sneezing fit.
After about an hour of Francis simmering in his own body heat, he heard keys at the door, and whipped his head up to see what was going on.
As Hank stepped into the room, he was shocked to see Francis already in, who was grimacing at the harsh light from outside,
and laying in bed,
with no book or textbook.
what was going on??
He stepped a bit closer, still maintaining eye contact with Francis, who on closer examination looked undoubtedly sick, and on an even closer examination-
"Why are you wearing my of Montreal pyjama shirt?"
Francis looked down at himself; well that explained something.
He looked back up at Hank, wiping his nose with his arm
"It was the first thing I grabbed... apologies"
Francis coughed again, making sure to cover his face this time, so that Hank wouldn't be caught in the crossfire, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression
"I think you should stay at your freinds dorm again, I believe that this place is now considered a biohazard." Francis batted away the used tissues on his nightstand into the trash can to keep it somewhat sanitary.
Hank sighed, and hung his bag up on the closet door
"nope... she was super swamped with studying so I got kicked out," Francis didn't know why he felt almost annoyed about him staying at a female friends dorm, but discreetly put on a mask before Hank continued "believe me, I wouldn't be here unless I had to- why do you have masks in your nightstand??"
Francis shrugged
"in case you ever got sick and I couldn't leave."
Hank rolled his eyes, walking over to Francis, who panickedly shuffled backwards to avoid getting Hank sick.
Hank put his hand to Francis' forehead
"have you taken anything yet?- god your forehead is warm- I'm going to get the thermometer"
Francis was left bewildered at the sudden caringness of Hank, who just sat there frozen in confusion until Hank came back in with the thermometer and cough medicine
"put this in your mouth"
Hank put the cough medicine on the nightstand and began to look for something in his closet
"no- I'm sorry what? why are you doing this?"
"because you're sick and I'm taking care of you, now put that thermometer in your mouth before I ram it down your throat"
This made Francis even more confused, why was Hank taking care of him?? He was an outright dickhead yesterday, and now Hank was acting like his personal nurse. this didn't make any sense, why was Hank being kind to him?
"McJones, I can take care of myself when I'm sick, there's no need to play hospital with me." Francis scoffed
"okay, take care of yourself then"
"well, I will as soon as I stop feeling dizzy"
"AHA!" Hank pointed at Francis melodramatically "so you CAN'T take care of yourself"
Francis stared at Hank blankly, surprised that he had been bested in this debate, given that he couldn't come up with any counter arguments, and briefly ruled out his options.
after a moment, Francis gave in
"fine." Francis muttered, his voice now sounding even more gravelly than before.
"Great, now use the goddamn thermometer"
before Francis could even consider picking it up, Hank had already stormed over, pulled down his mask and shoved it into his mouth, letting it hang in Francis' mouth for a second, who was staring at Hank dumbfounded, before pulling it out and looking at the number
"101° Fahrenheit... yikes. definitely a fever, lay down for a bit now."
"yeah.. I definitely will"
Francis nodded, still bewildered at what just happened, ignoring these newly discovered feelings he had for Hank that he probably shouldn't have been feeling, and resettled himself back into bed.
"...do you even like of Montreal-?" Hank questioned, to which Francis looked up, already on the verge of passing out
"actually it doesn't matter, just rest for now."
Francis flopped his head back onto the pillow and breathed, shifting himself onto his side to face the wall.
He supposed it wouldn't be that bad to have someone look after him while he was sick, he did always feel it was a faff to care for himself while practically on the verge of passing out, even if it was Hank.
The spinning only seemed to lull Francis to sleep, who promptly completely fell asleep within minutes.
When Hank noticed this-(given that he was softly snoring now)-he just chuckled
"dork..." he whispered to himself.
He watched for a little bit longer; seeing how his chest rose and fell, his hand twitching occasionally, him in his clothes- fuck.
Hank decided to distract himself by making a cool rag to put on Francis' head. he really didn't want to think about this now. I mean he's kept these feelings buried for over a year, why now??
________
Francis woke up groggy and still feeling gross, having the wet cloth on his forehead to plap into his lap. He coughed into his arm, readjusting his mask and looked to see Hank sitting at his desk.
"oh good, you aren't dead. you feeling much better?" He questioned, pulling his headphones to his neck
"A little, I suppose? thanks for the damp towel.." The mix of a blocked nose and a sore throat made Francis sound like a nasally batman, Hank thought.
"no problem, you want some soup?"
Francis was still confused about why Hank was being so nice, but the promise of soup was over-powering any other ideas that could cross his mind right now.
"gosh... that would be great"
"awesome! also, you can keep that shirt... I think it's completely soaked with your sweat, now"
Francis made a small humph in response and settled down to stare at the ceiling.
This was nice.
Having someone care for him was nice, it made him feel all happy, which was a welcomed change from the constant stress of college, and Hank was surprisingly good at this.
Francis watched him as he made the soup.
he was grateful.
This was weird; he's never felt anything positive for Hank, just deep seething annoyance from the moment he saw him, but maybe it wasn't annoyance.
Francis immediately snapped out of it when Hank walked over with a bowl, shuffling into a sitting up position
"so, we didn't have any soup, so I just took the noodles out of an instant ramen and made the broth. But I left some noodle crumbles in!"
Hank placed the bowl of 'soup' on the nightstand and beamed at his resourcefulness, causing a fuzzy feeling to bloom in Francis' chest.
Okay, definitely not annoyance.
Why is he only realizing this now??
he took the 'soup' in his lap and swirled it around with his spoon.
this was sad, falling in love with his roommate was a new low, even for him.
His throat and chest still felt dry when he swallowed the soup, quietly hacking into the back of his hand when he was done, happy he managed to get some much needed food down, (if you could consider it food), before turning onto his side and dramatically sighing, which also morphed into a cough.
"still got a nasty cough, huh?" Hank questioned, looking up once again from his homework.
Francis gave a little nod, probably pouting under the mask Hank speculated, desperately wishing he could see it for real.
Hank liked Francis like this; not a snobby know-it-all, aggressively independent nerd, but instead just a helpless timid nerd, which was a much better nerd archetype! besides, maybe Hank doing that will hopefully get rid of the tension between them and even potentially become friends.
Or Francis will shout at Hank to not tell anyone and threaten him with his very real ability to get him kicked out of college; which was more likely.
"hm... maybe you could use some of that cough syrup? definitely calm that hucking down" Hank took the bottle off the nightstand and offered it to Francis, who stared at it skeptically
"...what flavor is it"
"...grape"
"deal"
Francis took the bottle and after getting frustrated with the kiddie-lock cap took a hefty swig, much to the horror of Hank.
"Francis, what the hell are you doing?? you need to read the dosage for your age and-"
Hank stopped mid speech realizing how much he sounded like Francis, noted how much Francis was acting like him, reevaluated, sighed, and decided to rephrase "did you even read the bottle?"
"of course I did! it says-"
Francis cut himself off, staring at the label
"you gave me the drowsy kind?"
"there's a drowsy kind?"
"of course there's a drowsy kind!" he buried his face in his hands "Hank...!"
Francis groaned,
"I'm sorry!! I mean you aren't even doing much anyway- where you planning on thinking about photosynthesis for the next 4 hours or something?!"
"yes. that was exactly what I was planning on doing!"
Francis threw himself back, not sure if what he was feeling was the drug-induced drowsiness, his prior dizziness, placebo or a mix of all three.
________
After about 3 hours, Francis was in the complete throws of cough syrup side-effects, (which usually lasts 6 to 8 hours), the feeling being best described as the border between lucidness and unconsciousness.
He had spend most of the time staring at the ceiling trying to think about ribosomes or something vaguely productive but ultimately not being able to focus, and just pathetically groaning, once even getting up to try and study, which was quickly disapproved by Hank, who dragged him back into bed.
Hanks decided to skip his last few classes, just to make sure Francis doesn't die in this drugged state, given that it was partially his fault (though it was mostly Francis', he just wanted an excuse to stay with him a bit longer)
He was oddly endearing like that, especially when he occasionally lifted his head all excited in an epiphany only to say some batshit that resembled something logical, to which Hank just smiled and played along.
nerd stuff, he thought.
"so- that's why blended flowers could be the turning point of modern medicine-!" Francis finally concluded, after 36 minutes.
Hank had been multitasking between listening to Francis talking about... whatever that was and reading a textbook, giving Francis the odd "mhm..." and "wow, really?" to keep him secure in the knowledge that someone was listening to him
"do you have any theories, Hank? any- artsy hypothesises, or something?" Francis drawled, laying on his front with an arm dangling off of the side of the bed
'not much to theorize, Francy... we're learning about how colour palettes effect tone in class, though" said Hank, still not looking up from his textbook, accidentally ripping a page while turning
"hmm... Francy...." He giggled, almost inaudible, nuzzling his face into his mattress "I like that..."
Hank decided to pretend like he didn't hear that; mainly so that he could ignore his face getting noticeably hotter by the second, dramatically slamming the textbook, which startled Francis, and quickly jumping to his feet
"I think it's about time I check your temperature again" Hank trudged to the bathroom to find the thermometer (and to splash cold water on his face)
"okay- as long as you don't violate me again I'll be fine..."
"yeah," Hank chuckled, walking back into the room with said thermometer "sorry again"
Hank sat at Francis' bedside, helping Francis to get into a sitting up position, before gently tugging down his, now rather moist, mask to his chin and just stared at him for a moment.
He's realising now he's never been this close to Francis, Ever. Once they were trapped in a rather cramped elevator together, but that was about it. But now he was only about 6 inches away from his face, a face that was slicked with sweat with droopy eyelids and a pair of spit wetted lips, but still unfairly handsome.
Hank abruptly shook all these thoughts from his head and broke the stare to pick up the thermometer from the nightstand, with minorly shaky hands.
"say 'ahh'"
Francis' complied, allowing Hank to slip the thermometer under his tongue, noticing how now he seemed to be looking everywhere except for him, which in a weird way annoyed him.
after a couple of painfully awkward seconds Hank removed the thermometer from his mouth and looked at the number
"hm... not much better... in fact it says you're getting warmer?"
Hank placed the back of his hand on Francis' forehead, and Francis almost purred at the sensation of his cool hand against his forehead, letting his eyes flutter shut.
"probably not great. I'm going to put this back in the bathroom"
when Francis felt hank pull away to get up Francis, in a foggy state, impulsively grabbed onto his sleeve and spluttered
"w-wait!"
Hank froze mid action to look at Francis with confusion, who pathetically fell back down into bed
"please stay with me..."
Hank blinked, was he being serious?
Francis looked up at him with pleading half-lidded eyes, pouting before readjusting his mask to cover his face again.
"... whatever you need, dude"
Francis sighed with relief when Hank remained sitting at his side, budging over to make room for him
"oh, you mean like- laying with you?"
Hank felt his face heat up again, unfamiliar with this new clingy version of Francis.
He lifted his head to look at Hank, his droopy eyes staring at him.
"I'm sorry... is that okay?"
Hank spluttered, his flushed face must be prominent now. He ran his hand through his hair and laughed nervously, with Francis slowly deflating at the sight of Hank being awkward.
"yeah, yeah- still fine"
Francis immediately lit up again, fully budging back to make room for him, and Hank hoped he doesn't look too much like a tomato now.
When he finally settled, they laid facing eachother, Hank noting how this overthrew the previous record of being close to Francis, now their entire bodies only being about and inch and a half away from eachother.
Hank moved his arm to act as a pillow for his head, looking everywhere except for how intently Francis was staring into his eyes, carefully angling hips backwards; just in case.
Francis sighed and broke the one-way eye contact to look at the mattress
"Hank...?"
"yeah?"
Francis stayed silent for a moment, picking at the lint on the bed sheet before making eye contact again
"why are you being kind to me...?"
"what do you mean?"
"I guess,-" Francis sighed again "I was such a prick to you yesterday, I just don't get why you wanna... help me. dont y'wanna drug my menthol tea with sleeping pills or something..."
Hank was thoughtful for a moment, trying to find a clear response.
"I don't know... I mean, I'm the oldest of three, so I'm used to putting petty shit aside to take care of family"
"but I'm not you're family," Francis chuckled "I don't think you even like me"
Hank didn't like Francis thinking that.
they went back go laying in silence, neither wanting to make eye contact this time.
Hank wasn't uncomfortable, weirdly enough.
maybe it's that he fantasiesed about a moment like this for so long he was almost numb to it, but his heart beating in his chest proved that theory very wrong very fast.
"if you want a real awnser," Hank began, making Francis' eyes dart up to meet his
" i guess I wanted to... say sorry, almost?"
Hank lied (well, not exactly. he just wasn't telling the whole truth)
"I feel like I was more of dick than you were yesterday, with the whole storming out n' all that..."
Francis hummed drowsily in response, flipping to lay on his back.
"that girl you went to... is she uhm-" Francis played with his hands "is she your partner?"
Hank looked a little shocked upon hearing this, but quickly burst out in a fit of laughter, trying not to be too loud as to not worsen Francis headache
"you mean Sal???? oh no no no no... me and Sally are just friends... god, that's funny though"
Francis made a nervous-delious chuckle and flipped over to his side again
"I guess it was kinda silly to ask..."
"plus, why do you care wether or not I have a girlfriend?'
Francis broke eye contact again, staring how at the mattress before finally meeting his eyes again.
wow, Francis thought, his eyes sure were pretty
what's even the point in lying anymore?
"guess..."
"what?"
"jeez Louise Hank- how dense are you? guess why I wouldn't be happy if you had a girlfriend!"
Hank tried to decipher wether or not this was sarcasm. Francis sounded pretty genuine, but he had no clue wether or not this was just drug induced performance diminishment. Hank Opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, he tried to get out of bed, but he frozen in place, so he just started at Francis, dumbfounded.
Francis huffed with annoyance and sat up, Hanks body finally allowing him to lean back, as Francis grabbed his shirt.
"this is why..."
Francis slurred blankly, before pulling him into a kiss.
Francis' mask was still on, so that took off points for quality, but wow, this still felt so right, Hank and Francis thought.
Hank wrapped his arms around Francis neck and leaned into this kiss, still wishing he could actually taste Francis, but he figured that pulling down the mask would make him sick, if he wasn't already.
Francis would never have done this without the added confidence of the cough syrup, gripping Hanks shirt tighter although he would disappear if he didn't. Hank was a decent kisser from what he could tell, though it wasn't like he'd had much experience before.
When they pulled away, They started at eachother, both dumbfounded this time, Before Hank broke the gazing by breaking out in bubbly laughter.
"awh man," he giggled "I had no idea you felt the same!"
"yeah..." Francis said, still bewildered by the whole thing, leaning back against the headboard " I mean, I didn't even know until 3 hours ago"
Hank just beamed at Francis, before a horrible realization dawned on him
"oh God... did you only do that because you're basically high right now???"
"no... I mean, I think sober me would have had the impulse control not to, but," Francis, after a couple of failed attempts, put his hand on Hanks "I'm glad I did"
then after a second Francis' face completely flushed, and Hank worried for a second his sickness took a turn for the worse
"I can't believe I actually did that-"
he laughed drowsily, and began urgently tapping on his thigh with his free hand
"I- uh- you're okay with that, right?" Francis stammered
it was good to see the cough syrup didn't completely smother normal Francis, Hank thought, before nodding and bringing up Francis hand to his face to kiss his knuckles.
"I hope that was worth it, because you're definitely going to get sick now"
Francis resettled back into bed, draping an arm over Hank when he slotted in next to him
"I'll be fine, plus it means you can take care of me nowww"
"m' still the sick one, Hank..."
"yeah I know, I'm just saying"
___________
a couple of hours later, Francis still felt a bit gross, but on the plus side he had gotten over the drowsyness!
and he had boyfriend now, which was weird.
He was still in bed, feeling disappointed because Hank had to get up to study or something, but he didn't mind watching him do his thing.
"Haannkk..."
Hank lifted his head up to see Francis', who was pathetically slumped on his stomach
"yes, Francis?"
"come back over pleeaaassseee..."
Hank rolled his eyes and chuckled, still reading his textbook, his voice hadn't gotten much better
"so the moment I become your boyfriend, I'm just meant to drop everything to cuddle with you?"
Francis huffed and drooped further into the mattress, unbashfully staring at Hank, now.
"I mean, it wouldn't hurt?" Francis mused
"c'monnnn, I think we have waited long enough"
"you're sick, Francy."
"that didn't stop you earlier!"
"that was different! it was a moment, okay? this isn't a moment."
Francis pouted, thinking about how they had only officially gotten together 4 hours ago and they were already bickering like a couple that's been together for a year.
"please?" Francis pleaded, looking at Hank with pleading eyes.
Hank ultimately gave in, throwing his textbook onto his bed and coming over.
"I didn't realize you were this clingy as a partner..."
Hank said, giving Francis a moment to shuffle over before flinging himself into his bed.
"frick you, I'm sick..."
Hank gently placed an arm over Francis, shoving one of his legs in-between his and sighed into his neck.
Francis hummed as Hank laid a gentle kiss at his nape, bringing a hand up to tangle his hand in his hair.
this was much better than Francis hypothesised, but still...
"sickness wise, I still don't feel much better"
Hank gently smacked him on the shoulder for that, before they both eventually fell asleep