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He lies on his back on their bed, arms folded over his chest as it rises and falls with laboured breaths, feeling a little bleary and delirious. Hugo fusses on the other side of their bedroom, Fumbling with a breakfast tray that clatters and clinks as he tries to balance everything one handed, other hand occupied with holding his phone, which he rapidly murmurs into. Loki's english isn't as good as Hugo's, but he catches the drift of the conversation, 'sick' 'look after' 'later in the week' He stares at the ceiling, throat too scratchy to say anything, but his eyes wrinkle affectionately at the dulcet tones of his voice.
Hanging up, Hugo shuffles over, perching on the side of the bed and rubbing his shin through the blankets to rouse him from his dozing, "Eat, so you can take medication," He offers the tray, pushing it onto his lap. Craning his head up he sees orange juice and a plate of scrambled eggs.
"Those aren't on my meal plan," voice full of snot.
Hugo snorts and reaches behind him to help him sit, fluffing up pillows so he has something to lean on, "I won't tell Coach."
The food only unsettles his stomach, Hugo scoops him up and brings him to the bathroom, rubbing his back as he throws up. Loki, for a moment, curses his expensive tastes, the marble tiles unyielding on his knees as he wretches, feeling oh so pathetic with this illness. Hugo's breath is warm next to his ear as he bends down to comfort him, the smell of toothpaste faint on his breath makes him gag again.
Once hobbled back to bed, he passes out almost immediately, Hugo tells him when he wakes a few hours later, stomach aching with emptiness now his breakfast is long gone. He's next to him on the bed, sitting on top of the covers with his book folded in his hands. Loki rolls over to say something and sneezes five times in a row. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes he sees Hugo's lips pursed into a small smile.
"What."
He shakes his head, amused with his suffering, clearly, "Your sneeze is cute."
This sentimental fool, "Ugh," he rolls back over and sneezes again.
"I want to keep an eye on you," Hugo tells him when he protests being moved from bed to their living room, propped up on the dark blue sofa with a box of tissues on his lap.
"I don't need to be looked after," he tries to persuade him, betrayed by his lungs when he coughs heavily a moment later.
"Are you sure?" Airily, he asks. He's got his back turned to him, across the room focused on his laptop. Wearing an old football jersey, he takes in the muscles of his back that shift every time he reaches across to the dark oak coffee table to his side. At least if he has been dragged out of bed the view is good.
Moving between half sleep and weakly waking, the day blurs together. Hugo takes every complaint and request easily, carting food and water and the TV remote around the house to keep him satisfied. Except the one request he won't fulfil.
"I can't kiss you."
He whines, "Why not?"
He snorts, backing away from the sofa when Loki reaches out to grab at him, pull him down, "I can't get sick, I have to look after you."
Maybe, he thinks faintly, this cold has made him so dehydrated his brain has dried out in his skull, thinking feels like moving through the desert, "I could look after you."
He smiles again. It's creepy, He never smiles this much, "you're so sweet, but no."
"Please," He tries again, "Kiss me better." Yes, his brain is definitely long gone, there is no other possible explanation for why he's acting so pitiful. He feels like he's observing himself through a window. Hugo, still looking at him all lovesick, as if Loki wasn't the unwell one, presses his glass of water into his hand, the cup cold against his overheating body and walks away.
He comes back later, But Loki still feels abandoned. Flicks through the channels on the TV untill he's satisfied with the football game he lands on. He grunts in slight dissatisfaction, Buzz of the commentators only serving to remind him where he could be if not for this damned cold, but he lets Hugo keep it on.
The game itself is terribly boring, failed set piece after failed set piece, the most indecisive striker he's ever seen. The ads roll at half time, but they may as well have replaced the first forty five minutes, would probably have entertained him more. Hugo is taking notes, what possibly there could have been to write down is lost on him.
He keeps wheezing, hacking up his lungs every few minutes, overran with this awful cough.
"Doesn't it break the illusion," He asks to the room, over the sound of the game, now back on and no more entertaining, "Of being God and all, if I keep coughing on you."
"Loki," Hugo sighs, placing his notes down and turning to face him, legs drawn up onto the furniture, "Even God needs rest sometimes, he had the seventh day, didn't he?"
He blinks, "Stop arguing with me."
"Okay, my love," He stands, stretching, "You're due more medication."
He nods and takes it with minimal complaint, throat burns as the swallows the tablets.
He wakes up in the night wheezing, sat up coughing into the crook of his arm. Hugo follows, sitting and sliding under the covers to him. In the dim light of the red LED alarm clock on his nightstand he can see Hugo frown slightly as he holds a hand to Loki's brow, "Burning up," He mumbles and moves to leave tiredness evident in the slow movement of his limbs.
Loki grabs his wrist, "Don't go." His voice comes out floaty to his own ears, whining.
"Oh," Hugo whispers lowly, he can barely hear it, his ears hurt, "You're so out of it."
It feels like theres bugs crawling out his throat, he bursts into another fit of coughing, squeezing Hugo's arm as he does, not letting him move away.
"Please," He asks, "I need to get you some paracetamol," Voice quirking at the end, sounding a little closer to London than Paris, Tugging his wrist free, he lets it go this time, falling to the bed.
"Paracetamol," He parrots back Hugo's slip of accent, "You sound so English, what have they done to you Vivian? My Vivian," voice trailing out to whispers at the end, delirious under the weight of the fever. Hugo's eyes glint slightly in the dark, sclera standing out more than his black irises.
"I'll be back in a minute," he steps away, feet padding across their bedroom floor.
A minute could be an hour or a day for all Loki cares, sputtering for breath, blowing his nose noisily into a tissue. The door cracks open and the soft light of the hallway spills in. Hugo slips in and his face, illuminated by the glow, looks weary and fretful, eyebrows pinched and mouth frowning. He sits on Loki's side of the bed and offers him a thermometer, Tapping his lip with the cold metal tip.
"'ou s'ould sleep" he slurs around the device, tracking the exhaustion on Hugo's face.
"shh," He scolds, "Stop trying to look after me."
He blinks, wide eyed at the sudden snap, but listens, closing his lips and eyes, waiting for the loud , angry beep that pierces his ears to tell them his temperature.
"That sounds bad," he wilts back down.
Hugo doesn't answer for a moment, But eventually he sighs, "Its not good."
Vaguely, he's aware of being manoeuvred into taking more tablets, But the exhaustion in his chest makes him slip into sleep quickly.
The next few days pass the same. In a limbo between awareness and slumber that makes him wake feeling worse than when he drifted off. He can't remember a time where they've gone this long without kissing, his lips miserably lonely and chapped. Still, Hugo won't budge. He won't even share drinks with him anymore. That is the worst symptom of this sickness. Hugo's flown from London just to play house with him, nurse him back to health, and still he's never felt so far apart from him.
"Just one."
He doesn't even dignify him with an answer, stood at the kitchen table sorting through their laundry, One pile his, one pile Loki's and one pile his again, but this time set aside for Loki to steal. Loki sits at another chair, leaning his body over the shiny polished wood table so his temple presses the cold surface.
"It doesn't have to be the lips," He presses, "My cheek, my forehead, just something."
Hugo's become something of a doctor these past days, He expertly tells him, "Any contact is a risk of transmission."
Flapping his hands in exasperation, he groans, "You've been making contact with me all week!"
"Medically necessary contact," he sniffs, continuing to fold clothes, but lifts his head and eyes him up, "You sound better, less chesty."
He coughs again, a short bark that really hinders his case.
"I feel better," He affirms, "Slightly better, anyway."
"I'm glad," Hugo glances at him, pensive, "I was worried for a while."
It's so cute how much he cares, Loki finds himself fully realising, "What for? I'm the best, obviously I was going to be fine."
He closes his eyes sleepily, but as he does he sees Hugo's hands fist in the t-shirt he folds, hears him murmur, "Even God rested."
"You said that already."
"mmhh," Hugo agrees, and if he says anything further Loki is already half asleep and misses it.
Another few days, and he feels like a person again, He stops sleeping through most of the day and the cough clears up. Mostly. Hugo even dares to leave him in the house on his own for a short while, as he goes out to find some of his favourite chocolate after they run out. He fusses over him when he gets back, practically interrogating him on how he had been in the half an hour he was gone for, and seems satisfied with the answers he gets.
"I want," He starts one morning, and stops to think, "I want to shave," Bringing his hand up to rub the stubble brought out on his chin from ignoring it for the past few days.
The smell of breakfast floats from behind Hugo, more eggs, 'the protein is good for you' he had insisted, "Do you want me to do it?" He offers immediately.
He nods, realises Hugo can't see him and answers him, "Please."
Hugo shepherds him to the bathroom, runs the tap hot so steam fills the room. He presses him up against the sink basin so he can lean in close, tilting his face to the side by the chin to inspect the area, "You would look good with a beard."
He frowns at him sceptically, "You think I would look good with anything."
He tilts his lips in consideration, "Yeah," and cups the warm water to wet Loki's face, rubbing softly at his skin.
The shaving foam smells of chemicals, Hugo lathers it into his face, under his chin, over his cupids bow, round the stretches of hair on his cheeks. Fingers moving deftly round his face, a place he knows well already. He reaches into the cabinet over the sink to grab his razor, leans closer into Loki's body, He has to turn his face to not get shaving foam in Hugo's shirt.
His tongue peeks out slightly in concentration as he swipes it over his face, pressing down and artfully removing the hair, he feels the slight scrape of the blade, it makes him squirm a little. He takes extra care in the sensitive parts of his skin. He avoids smiling so he doesn't interrupt Hugo's efforts, but he wants to, Looked after so well by him.
When he's done he rinses Loki's face, He could do that part himself, but he relishes the feeling of Hugo's hands on him. The warm water making his face tingle at the feeling of freshness, he lifts his own hands to touch his cheeks and the skin feels smooth.
"Thank you," he sighs, contented, Hugo offers him a towel to dry with.
"Glad I could help."
He rubs his face with the fabric, "You always help me."
Hugo's face lights up with barely concealed pride. He grins, What a dork.
Temperature being a respectable 37 degrees Celsius for two days, Hugo announces that he thinks (in his professional medical opinion) Loki is well again.
His chest is clear and he can breathe through his nose again, so he is inclined to agree.
"Finally I can train again," he sighs, "I was going stir crazy in this house."
Hugo opens his mouth, presumably to agree, but instead what comes out is, "Achoo!"
He has the decency to look guilty, eyes wide in almost comical shock, "You said you could look after me," is his eventual small response.
Loki blinks and sighs, but he can't hold it against him. The tiny voice, that now he listens to it closely, does have the beginnings of a croak in it, is awfully cute, "I guess I did."
He tilts his head to the side, considering Hugo for a moment, "Although, if you want me to nurse you back to health I might need some…" He trails off, standing and walking over to the chair Hugo is perched on, "Payment."
"Payment?" Hugo's eyes widen for a moment, he searches Loki's face, finding the twinkle of teasing amusement in his eye, "Oh," he brings his hands to rest on Loki's own, puling him closer between his legs, "If you wanted a kiss you could have just said."
Loki leans down, stopping just short of his lips, "Not worried about spreading illness anymore?"
He looks to the side, Huffing, "Bit late for that, and you have immunity now anyway."
Teasing, he steps back for a moment, testing Hugo's grip on his wrists, "Why should I kiss you, after you neglected me," he sniffs dramatically, "All week."
Hugo only frowns, pulling him closer again, nearer than he was before, sharply so he stumbles into him, chest almost hitting his face, "You were the one who asked me, Julian, don't act coy now."
He laughs, shaking his hands free of Hugo's hold and resting them on the back of his neck, "Come here," Leaning down to kiss his forehead.
"Stop teasing," Hugo whines, clearly not satisfied, using his now free hands to take Loki's waist and tug him down, leaving him to fall ungracefully into his lap, and finally, after his long week of this awful illness, kissing him properly.
His hands, still on the back of his neck, slip up into red hair, snaking his fingers through silky locks and pulling him closer into the warmth of his mouth, slick sounds of their lips sliding against each other like music to his ears, admittedly a little disgusting but true nonetheless. Hugo's hands envelop him, spanning round most of his waist and holding him firmly in place, shifting when he leans in further so his fingertips curl up to his ribs, pushing down on every sensitive spot he can reach to pull soft sounds out of Loki's mouth and into his when his lips open with tiny gasps at the sensation. Wasting no time, he slips his tongue into Loki's mouth, running over his teeth, tender as he maps out his gums, rediscovering the familiarity they had with each other before this stupid cold and Hugo's stupid kissing ban.
He's just about to do something, anything, to make the kiss deeper, to make up for lost time when Hugo forcefully pulls back and turns his head to the side, taking his hand from Loki to lean into his elbow, dislodging all of his efforts in getting as close as humanly possible. He's about to complain when Hugo sneezes again, Louder and wracking his whole body.
"Ah," He leans back a little, still followed by Hugo's remaining hand on his waist, "We should get you to bed, before this gets worse."
Hugo turns his head to Loki, endearingly flushed from the roots of his hair to his neck, he doesn't answer for a moment, leaning forward to rest his head on the crook of Loki's neck, and then mumbles, "Sorry."
He snorts, stroking his hair, "It's Okay, we should probably lay off the making out, for a little bit anyway."
He hears Hugo's discontent sigh, still into the side of his throat, and laughs "It's a taste of your own medicine, Do you know how annoying it was having you right there without being able to kiss you?"
Sliding off Hugo's lap so he can pull him up to help him to bed, he reaches to caress his cheek.
"I suppose I'll find out," He mumbles, and hand in hand with Loki he allows himself to be led and tucked into bed, Accepting the warm kiss he plants on his forehead.