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Jester had left on some important business, the Ticket Taker had gone with, meaning it was just Pierrot, Harlequin, the Doctor, and the Fools in the circus. Pierrot wasn‘t stupid, he knew the fools were Jester’s little know it all cameras, but he couldn‘t help it.
Pierrot knew what he wasn‘t supposed to be doing, but he’d snuck into Harlequin's bedroom once before and he hadn‘t got caught. What‘s just one more time? Not like Jester seemed hellbent on being around Harlequin anymore. Probably because Harlequin was frustrated with all the fussing and getting better with each passing day.
It was odd, they usually moved place every few weeks, but with Harlequin sick, they didn‘t want to risk anything, meaning sitting stationary for what was coming onto the second month of remaining stationary in the run down city Harlequin unfortunately got sick in. Why couldn‘t Harlequin have gotten bed bound sick in some upscale, rich neighborhood? Where no one knew everyone?
Pierrot entered the room as he had before, the warm smell of cinnamon new, Jester must’ve made Harlequin cinnamon soup or something, not that it smelled bad. Pierrot did like the scent, just not what it covered. Which was Harlequin’s sickly smell. Harlequin, like before, was curled up in his bed. Assumably asleep.
Pierrot moved over to the bed, Harlequin made a small hum before he sleepily turned to face him when Pierrot approached. Pierrot did feel warmth spread on his face, not expecting Harlequin to turn and face him. Harlequin was always so still when resting and sleeping that it was hard to tell it apart until Harlequin moved or acknowledged sound. Harlequin’s eyes were the softest tired green. Pierrot couldn‘t help himself but to wrap his arms around Harlequin.
Pierrot was gentle as he leaned into the bed, wrapping one arm around a slightly flailing Harlequin before securing himself around him. Harlequin originally made a huff of protest, his legs bending to try and make it hard for Pierrot to hold onto him, but gave up when he realized how little energy he had to maintain any struggle. His body going lax made Pierrot peer up at him.
“… Harle?” Pierrot mumbled, looking up from Harlequin’s chest to at least try and be a bit eye to eye. Harlequin rubbed at his eye before making any other noise.
“What, Pier…?” Harlequin mumbled back, voice rough from disuse, making Pierrot’s brow furrow and begin tightening his hold, making Harlequin only slightly protest with a small body adjustment.
“… are you better…?” Pierrot asked, eyes shifting to focus on anywhere else in Harlequin’s bedroom instead of Harlequin himself, embarrassed he’d even asked the question to him.
“… I'm… adequate, I guess…” Harlequin shrugged, running a hand through Pierrot‘s hair. Not necessarily truthing but also not directly lying either. He wasn‘t adequate, his body hurt, his brain hated thinking, his eyes were so tired and uncomfortable to use, but he didn‘t want to tell Pierrot, didn‘t want to upset him or risk making him sad.
“Are you eating more?” Pierrot asked, letting his hands grasp at Harlequin’s thin waist, trying to feel Harlequin up enough to see if he gained any noticeable weight. Harlequin slapped Pierrot‘s hands away, face reddening.
“Yes- just stop that-” Harlequin mumbled, feeling how Pierrot stopped feeling him up, instead just relaxing into Harlequin’s abdomen. Pierrot nestled his face into Harlequin’s chest, letting his face be covered by Harlequin's sickly warmth. “… you odd little clown…”
They laid like that for a while, not saying anything, just remaining quiet and holding onto each other. The darkness of the room lulled them into a relaxed state. Before Pierrot knew it, he was drifting off in Harlequin’s room. Probably a bad idea with how Jester had been with Harlequin sick, but it was an accident.