Work Text:
John isn't sure how to cure sickness. Chicken soup cans stands over him as witness, but even so, Alex's foe seems to grow, taunts him rudely, "Try to kick this." Bad enough, Alexander’s had enough, John keeps trying and sighing, "please" at every sneeze and cough, every drop of flu medication from the pharmacy station, and it’s still not enough, cuz Alexander’s nose is still stuffed.
Alexander’s tired, this John knows. Surprising because all he does is blow his nose, but he must be thinking, sinking, slinking, feeling sad and home bound. Because this is how his mother died, but Alexander had never drowned. Alex is scared John’ll get sick too, almost pushes him out of the room, although John never really does get the flu, he swears on his life, which Alexander takes with strife, swears to above, “I just don’t want lose you, my love.” Alexander also worries and wants to hurry to get over it, just in case John is sick of his being sick shit, but John tells him to slow down, sympathetic frown, because he finds he doesn’t mind, and doesn’t want Alexander to meltdown.
John knows it’s a sucky situation, stuck in one location, full of frustration, of Alex trying to decide, whether to show or hide his symptoms, victim of the middle ground, but he breaks down when John’s warm arms wrap and surround him.
Alexander still has the time, rhyme or reason unneeded, words of advice unheeded, work already undeeded from him, indeed, Washington is undone, "Flu season has begun, son, let him rest until next Monday," but Alexander says he’s okay, just fine, writes line after line, no matter what anyone says. Sighs in defeat after John takes the laptop away.
John gives him kisses and wishes him to get well soon, and misses him, even in another room. While Alexander worries, John is torn apart at the seams, he seems to worry even more, for sure. He sits by him when he can, mind sticks to him when he can’t, Alexander has ants in his pants, doesn’t wanna throw away his chance, and even with the sickness overshadowing him, he stands.
And faints.
John finds out with a half-shrieked shout, half a second past, hearing a thump, and finding Alexander at last, with a new bump on his head, thank god, he wasn’t bled, but John, still panic led, puts Alexander back to bed, almost calls emergency, because he thinks Alexander’s…
Alexander, unmoving, is wan and pale, several silent seconds set sail, John almost starts to wail, when Alexander’s eyes fly open, an omen, that everything will be okay, and John may or may not be sobbing… a lot.
John quickly patches his head, Alexander tries to apologize, but instead, John being soothed is a losing battle, he’s rattled, ran ragged, loose breath, he knows it was minor, but how close was Alex to death?
Alexander promises not to get up again, just for John’s breath to mend, and swears on his life, which John takes in strife and swears to above, “I just don’t want to lose you, my love.”
John doesn’t leave his side for a while, even with Alexander’s denial and guile, John is tactile with Alex’s skin, cuddling and cozying up with him. Moment, minute, maybe more, the incident seems to open a door, and John talks, Alex locks his lips up for once and listens to his story, history had not been kind, kinda has been past the line, of fine and went on to what Alexander could relate; John gripped Alexander’s hand as he said his own mother was late.
Alexander found, soundlessly, lots of similarities. Both mothers were sick, died quick, cried before the next disaster came, for Alexander, it was the rain with the hurricane.
John's was his father, wanting to move on, which to John was a little bothering, but bottling up his feelings, he moved on as well, as quelling his grief when he started to dwell. His father was abusive, intrusive, a huge prick. Didn’t care for the kids; John was scared when they were sick, hoping, like Alex, that his loved ones wouldn’t die, always trying to care for them himself, couldn’t say goodbye.
Alexander reassured him, hope in times of looking grim, slim chances of either of their passing, their last goodbye would have to be later, their lives were long lasting, said all on a whim, but still, John felt better to sleep next to him.