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The sound of coughing jolts Robby out of a dead sleep. He blinks awake in the semi-darkness of the bedroom, softly illuminated by the glow of a whale nightlight plugged in beside the bed. The mattress is empty when Robby groggily stretches his arm across it, finding only empty sheets. He sits up on one arm, rubbing a hand across his face.
“Andrew?” He calls out, voice gravelly from sleep.
There’s no verbal answer, but Robby still hears the coughing. It’s coming from behind the closed bathroom door. A thin strip of light shines underneath it. Robby checks his phone, sees that it’s just past 4:30 in the morning. Jack is due back from his shift in a couple hours. Robby gets out of bed, wearing only some soft sweatpants, and pads over to the bathroom, knocking softly on the door.
“Andy? Are you okay?”
“M’fine,” Andrew replies through the door. “Go back to sleep.”
Robby frowns. His boyfriend’s voice sounds different, raspy and thick. The bathroom door is unlocked, so he slowly turns the handle and pushes it open, blinking at the light. Andrew is slumped on the floor beside the bathtub and the toilet, looking like absolute hell. His face is ashen and pale, auburn curls matted with sweat, his cheeks flushed high with color. He’s wearing sleep shorts and no shirt, so Robby can see the goosebumps rashing his body from the chills wracking his frame.
“Andrew!” Robby crouches down on the floor beside him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t know,” Andrew croaks. “At first I thought it was just allergies or something, but the meds I took didn’t help. Then I started hurting all over, and it started getting hard to breathe without coughing.”
As if to emphasize his point, Andrew suddenly turns away to cough wetly into his arm. His whole body shakes from the force of it, the sound rattling in his chest. Robby presses the back of his hand against his cheek, then his forehead, and his brows crease with concern at how hot the other man feels.
“I think we should get you to the hospital, sweetheart,” Robby says gently. “You might have the flu, but I want to run some tests to be sure.”
“I’m fine,” Andrew insists, even as he coughs again. “I just need to sleep.”
“You’re not fine, Andy,” Robby says. “You have a fever.” He cards a hand through his boyfriend’s damp hair. “I’ll take you to the Pitt, and one of my colleagues will look you over.”
Andrew sighs, which dissolves into a coughing fit. Reluctantly, he nods when it passes. Robby helps him stand and bundles him up in jeans and a hooded sweater, then throws on some clothes himself. He texts Dana, letting her know that he’s on the way with Andrew, to make sure a room is ready for him, and to let Jack know they’re coming. Robby helps his lover into his Jeep and they drive to the pit, Andrew shivering in the passenger seat, the hood of his sweater pulled up, resting his head on the window.
Robby parks the car and gets out first, moving to open Andrew’s door, helping him out of the vehicle. Andrew leans heavily against Robby’s side, like his entire body is leaden. Robby can feel the heat radiating off of him, even through their clothes. They walk inside, and Dana is already there in the waiting area. She quickly ushers them back into an exam room. Jack is there, scrubs on, stethoscope around his neck, and a worried expression on his face.
“Jack,” Andrew croaks.
“Hey, baby,” Jack murmurs, hugging him as Andrew climbs onto the bed. “I’m here, we’re both here.”
The younger man lays back on the bed, seemingly grateful to be off his feet. Dana comes into the room again, smiling gently at Andrew. Among Jack and Robby’s colleagues, he’s always liked her the most. She closes the curtain behind her as she approaches the bed.
“Hey, Andrew,” she says softly. “I’m just gonna look you over, check your vitals, okay?”
Andrew nods. “Okay.”
With Robby and Jack hovering at his right side, Dana takes Andrew’s vitals. His blood pressure is slightly elevated, same with his heart rate, but his oxygen is good. Then Dana slips a thermometer into Andrew’s mouth, under his tongue, and when she takes it out, she looks concerned.
“What is it?” Jack asks.
“103.2,” Dana replies, showing them the reading.
“That sounds bad,” Andrew rasps, coughing.
“It’s not great, but it could be worse,” Dana says. “I’ll need to take some nasal and oral swabs, to send to the lab so we can see what you’ve got. Is that okay with you, Andrew?”
He looks unnerved about the idea of swabs, but he nods, squeezing Jack’s hand when he holds it out.
“The swabs might be a little uncomfortable, but they shouldn’t hurt,” Robby says.
“Okay,” Andrew agrees. “You’ll stay, right?”
“Of course,” Jack says.
He holds Andrew’s hand while Robby keeps one of his on their boyfriend’s back while Dana takes the swabs.
“Sit tight, boys, I’ll make sure the labs rushes these,” Dana says.
“Thanks, Dana,” Robby tells her.
She winks at them as she sweeps out of the room. Andrew whines, curling up on the bed, shivering despite the hoodie he’s wearing. Jack dims the lights a little when he sees the way the younger man’s eyes have squeezed shut. Robby runs his hand through Andrew’s curls.
“We’re here, sweetheart,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”
“Everything hurts,” Andrew whimpers.
Jack kisses his temple, strokes the sweaty skin gently with his thumb. The gesture seems to relax him, and Andrew dozes off while they wait for Dana to return with the results. She comes back looking more concerned than Robby and Jack already feel.
“What’s wrong?” Robby asks. “Is it the flu?”
“Yeah, but it’s also kind of more than that,” Dana says. “From the looks of his white cell count, he’s actually been sick for a while. A couple days, maybe even a week.”
“A week?” Jack nearly exclaims. “How could he have been sick for a week without either of us knowing? We’re fucking doctors for God’s sake!”
“Easy, Jack,” Robby interjects, placing his hand on Jack’s chest, glancing at Andrew.
Jack sighs as he takes Robby’s hand and looks at Dana. “So, what’s next?”
“I’ll get him a ‘scrip for some flu meds, but let me know if they don’t seem to be helping and we can try something stronger. In the meantime, rest, fluids, and all the loving from you two will get him feeling better in no time.”
Jack and Robby laugh as Dana winks and leaves the room again. Jack sighs, running both hands through his hair before Robby gives him a hug.
“He’ll be okay, Jack. He’s tough, we both know that.”
“I know.” Jack squeezes him back. “I just wish he’d told us, or that we noticed in the first place.”
They let Andrew sleep until Dana arrives with his meds, and Jack shakes him awake. The younger man groans as he wakes up, clearly still feeling ill.
“S’going on?”
“We’ve got your meds,” Jack answers. “Time to go home, baby. We need to get you back in bed.”
Andrew hums at the thought of returning to their bed, so he lets himself be led back outside to Jack’s truck. Robby’s shift is due to start in an hour. He hugs Andrew and kisses his sweaty forehead through the window before kissing Jack on the lips. Jack drives them home and helps Andrew out of the truck and into the house, straight back to the bedroom. His boyfriend strips out of his sweaty clothes, but lingers near their bed, staring at it uneasily.
“Andy, you okay?” Jack asks.
“I think I want to sleep in the other bedroom,” Andrew says, sniffling. “I’ll take the nightlight with me.”
Puzzled, Jack tries to protest, but Andrew grabs the nightlight from the outlet by their bed and makes his way to the guest bedroom that’s down the hall, closer to the living room and the other bathroom. Jack changes out of his scrubs, takes off his prosthetic, then grabs his crutches before following. The door is closed, so he knocks gently.
“Andy?”
When there’s no answer, Jack opens the door. Andrew is already settled on the bed, his back to the door. The room itself is small and sparse, with just the bed, a dresser, a nightstand with a small lamp. Andrew’s nightlight is already plugged in beside the door. Jack slowly enters the room and sits down on the end of the bed, making Andrew roll over to look at him.
“Let’s get these meds and some water in you, then you can get some sleep,” Jack says, taking the pill bottle out of the pocket of his pajamas.
Andrew nods and accepts the small tablet into his palm, his hand shaking slightly as he reaches for a water bottle on the nightstand. He flinches back when Jack reaches to help, so the older man retreats. Andrew swallows down the pill and drains half the bottle before rolling back over, pulling the blanket up to his shoulder.
“Do you need anything else?” Jack asks, confused by Andrew’s sudden distance.
“No,” he replies without turning around. “Just wanna sleep.”
“Alright,” Jack says quietly. “Holler out if you need anything, baby.”
He gets up and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him. Suddenly bone-tired but not wanting to stray too far from Andrew, Jack goes to the living room and settles himself on the couch, glancing over his shoulder at the guestroom. He’s never seen Andrew sick before, and it’s slightly unnerving, the sudden standoffish behavior. He hasn’t been that way since they all first got together, because he was weary what Jack and Robby’s true intentions were, not believing that they really loved and wanted him.
It could be that he’s embarrassed about being sick. Jack knows how scary that sort of vulnerability can be, especially to someone used to people not caring about them. Like Andrew. Jack ponders that as he falls asleep on the couch to the sound of Law & Order reruns.
Jack wakes up to the sound of screaming. He jolts upright so fast he feels dizzy. It’s coming from the guestroom. He grabs his crutches and moves as quickly as he can, not even bothering to knock as he throws open the door. Andrew is curled up into a ball, the covers kicked off, shaking like a leaf. He’s crying, sobbing like a scared child, screaming a mix of names Jack vaguely recognizes, mixed with his own and Robby’s.
“What have you done with them? Where are Jack and Robby? Don’t hurt them, please, please don’t hurt them!”
Jack rushes to the bed. “Andy, baby, wake up. You’re having a nightmare. I’m here, sweetheart.”
He touches Andrew’s back, the skin slick with sweat and so hot it’s like touching a burning stovetop. His boyfriend flinches at the touch, pressing himself against the wall. He coughs between sobs, wet and painful sounding. Jack tries again.
“Andy, it’s me, it’s Jack. Wake up, love. You’re dreaming. It’s not real.”
Andrew’s eyes snap open, wide and fever-bright and brimming with tears. He blinks as he stares at Jack’s face, reaching out to touch him with shaking hands.
“Jack?”
“Yeah, Andy, it’s me,” Jack confirms, keeping his voice low. “I’m here.”
Andrew throws himself into the older man’s arms, burying his face in Jack’s neck. Jack holds him tight, stroking his sweaty hair.
“Don’t leave me,” Andrew whispers hoarsely. “Please.”
“Never,” Jack says.
“Where’s Robby?” Andrew asks.
“He’s working, but he’ll be home soon,” Jack answers. “He didn’t leave you, sweetheart.”
Andrew sniffles against Jack’s neck. He’s so warm yet shivers with chills at the same time.
“We need to get your fever down,” Jack says. “If I stay, will you take your meds for me, honey?”
Andrew nods into his neck. Jack grabs his pills and lets his boyfriend lean against him as he swallows them with water. Afterward, Jack guides the younger man to lay down, pulling the blanket over both of them. Andrew cuddles into Jack’s chest instead of the pillow, his grip strong even in sleep. Jack pets his auburn curls and kisses his forehead, until sleep claims him as well.
🩺
Robby comes home at nine p.m., entering the house quietly. He hasn’t heard from Jack since he and Andrew left the hospital this morning, and he’s trying not to let the worry eat him alive. Robby leaves his shoes and bag by the front door, noting that the TV is on in the living room, but there’s nobody there. The kitchen is empty too. Robby starts to head toward their bedroom, but pauses as he passes the guestroom. The door is cracked open just slightly, and he pushes it open further.
Jack and Andrew are curled up on the small bed there, dimly lit by the glow of the latter’s whale nightlight plugged in by the door. Jack is on his side, back pressed to the wall, Andrew latched onto his chest like a starfish, both of them asleep. The sight is as adorable as it is confusing, because why were they sleeping in here instead of their bedroom? Robby quietly enters the room and sits down on the mattress, which dips under his weight.
“Boys?” He asks softly.
Jack stirs first, ever the light sleeper. “Michael? Shit, what time is it?”
“Nine o’clock,” Robby replies. “Why are you guys in here instead of our room?”
“Andrew wanted to sleep in here,” Jack answers, keeping his voice low. “I’m not sure why, but I didn’t fight him. I dozed off on the couch and woke up because he started screaming.”
“Screaming?”
“Fever dream,” Jack explains. “I’d never seen him like that before. Crying, asking someone where you and I were. I woke him up and he’s been clinging to me like this ever since after I gave him another dose of his meds.”
Robby’s heart clenches as he looks down at the pale, sleeping face of their boyfriend. He gently rubs his fingers through Andrew’s curls, and the younger man’s eyes flutter weakly open.
“Robby?” Andrew slurs, voice thick with fatigue and mucus.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Robby whispers, kissing his forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Shitty,” Andrew croaks.
Even in the half light, Robby and Jack can see the fevered flush that’s returned to his face. Sweat gleams on his temples. Despite the meds, his fever doesn’t seem to be breaking.
“We need to get your temp down, Andy,” Robby murmurs. “Will you let us help you?”
Andrew nods weakly. “Just don’t leave me.”
Robby kisses his forehead, then helps Jack ease their partner upright, though Robby all but carries Andrew to their bathroom, which has a bigger tub than the one in the hall. Jack starts the water, making sure it’s lukewarm rather than frigid. Robby strips Andrew of his boxers, the younger man leaning on him.
“I think one of us should be in the water with him,” Jack murmurs. “I don’t know if he can hold himself up.”
“Good idea,” Robby replies.
He takes off his own clothes and steps into the water first, holding Andrew’s frame against his chest as he settles them both down. Jack sits on the closed toilet, watching. Andrew nuzzles his head against Robby’s shoulder with a sleepy hum. Slowly, the bath seems to do the trick, as Andrew stops shivering and the scarlet flush on his skin slowly fades.
“Let’s get him to bed,” Robby whispers. “Our bed.”
Jack nods. Andrew stirs back to life as they get out of the bath, a hint of lucidity coming back to his eyes.
“Guys?” he mumbles. “What’s going on? What happened?”
“Your fever came back and spiked pretty bad,” Jack explains. “We stuck you in the bath to help bring it down.”
“Hmm,” Andrew hums. “Thanks.”
Robby dries them off with some thick towels. Though Andrew seems better, he’s still shaky on his feet, leaning on Robby for support as they reach their bedroom. Then Andrew tenses up again, even as Jack sits him on the mattress.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“I can go back to the guestroom,” Andrew mumbles. “I don’t want you guys to get sick too, and you should be able to sleep without…”
He pauses, staring at the wall on the other side of the room. Jack sees him biting at his inner cheek, a tic that Andrew’s developed whenever he tries to keep things to himself or when he loses his temper, as if he’s trying to bite back his anger.
“Without what, sweetheart?” Jack prompts gently.
“Nothing.” Andrew shakes his head and rubs his brow. “Forget it.”
He accepts the pajama pants Robby offers him and crawls into bed, though both his boyfriends notice that he chooses to be on the outside rather than in between them. Luckily, Jack had the presence of mind to grab the nightlight from the guestroom and plugs it back in. This appears to help Andrew relax a fraction, and he falls asleep instantly, with Robby holding him from behind.
🩺
The next morning, Andrew changes again.
Robby wakes up to him clinging to his chest, crying softly into his t-shirt. Robby pulls him close, feeling the damp heat of his fevered skin through his clothes. Jack wakes up and immediately grabs the thermometer from the bathroom, running it gently across Andrew’s forehead.
“101. 2,” Jack murmurs. “That’s better than it was.”
“Yeah, maybe the meds are finally working,” Robby agrees. “How long since his last dose?”
“We didn’t give him any last night, so he’s due.” Jack strokes Andrew’s hair. “We should try to get him to eat something too.”
Robby nods, grateful that he’s off today and that Jack doesn’t start until tonight, so they both be with Andrew. Jack leaves the room to get the medicine. Andrew suddenly mumbles, his eyes opening, red-rimmed from his tears.
“Robby?” he rasps.
“Yeah, honey, I’m here,” Robby murmurs, kissing his hot forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“Been better.” Andrew looks around their bedroom and suddenly sits up, pushing himself away from his boyfriend’s arms. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“What do you mean?” Robby grabs his arm. “Andy, you’re sick. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’m always alone,” Andrew says, his voice a thready whisper. “I’m used to it.”
“You’re not alone anymore, Andrew,” Robby promises, feeling his heart crumble. “You have me and you have Jack. We won’t ever leave you.” He tugs his lover gently back to him by his arm. “Come back to bed, honey.”
He sees Andrew’s resolve collapse like a sandcastle, and the younger man curls back into Robby’s chest. Jack returns with Andrew’s medicine. He obediently takes it and lays back on Robby’s chest, clearly still exhausted. He sleeps throughout the morning, using Robby as a pillow. Though Andrew is far from unaffectionate when he’s healthy, his illness has brought out a clinginess that neither Robby nor Jack has ever seen from him.
“Andy,” Jack whispers, petting his hair to wake him. “Wake up for me, love.”
Andrew opens his eyes but doesn’t raise his head off Robby’s chest. “What’s up?”
“You need to eat something,” Jack says. “Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” Andrew answers.
“When was the last time you ate something?” Robby asks.
Andrew is silent. Then he replies, “I don’t know. A few days before you guys took me to the hospital. I felt too sick and was afraid I’d throw up if I tried to eat anything. So I just drank some of those instant breakfast drinks.”
Jack and Robby exchange a look. Andrew hides his face in the latter’s shoulder like a shy child. Jack kisses Andrew’s curls and leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with a bottled smoothie from the fridge and a pack of plain crackers. They need to ease Andrew back into eating because too much food could shock his system.
“Try to eat these for us, sweetheart,” Robby says, coaxing Andrew to sit up. “It’s okay if you don’t finish it all, but you need to eat so you can get better.”
Andrew’s eyes flash with something neither Jack or Robby can’t read. He sits up against Robby’s chest, eats a few of the crackers and drains the smoothie. He cuddles into Jack’s side when the older man gets back into bed. Jack strokes his hair, noting with relief that his fever hasn’t returned.
“Get some rest, Andy,” Jack says, and Andrew’s eyes drift softly closed.
🩺
Andrew is sick for nearly a week. Though his fever breaks, the muscle aches, congestion, coughing, and exhaustion hang on. He doesn’t try to distance himself from Jack and Robby again, though the two men can’t help but wonder why he hid his illness from them for so long. They both know it’s something they need to talk about once Andrew is better.
On Saturday morning, Jack and Robby wake up and find Andrew in the kitchen, standing at the coffee maker. He still looks tired, shadows under his eyes, skin still paler than usual, but his mouth quirks into a smile when he sees them.
“Hey,” he says, voice still rough from sleep and illness. “I made coffee for you guys.” He gestures to the prepared mugs on the counter.
“Thank you, sweetheart, but we could’ve done that,” Robby says, kissing Andrew’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Andrew replies. “And I wanted to do something for you guys. It’s the least I could do after what I put you through this past week.”
“What you put us through?” Jack repeats. “What do you mean?”
“You guys were stuck looking after me.” Andrew stares at the coffee pot. “I’ll try to make it up to you guys more.”
“Andrew, you don’t have anything to make up for,” Robby says. “We wanted to look after you.”
Andrew shifts uneasily. He rubs his neck. “Really?”
“Of course.” Jack raises his eyebrows. “Did you think you would bother us if you were sick? Is that why you didn’t tell us when it first started, why you tried to distance yourself from us?”
Andrew nods tentatively, sitting down at the table, keeping his eyes low. Robby and Jack sit on either side of him.
“Why, sweetheart?” Robby asks softly. “Why would you think that?”
Andrew remains quiet for a long moment, hands wringing nervously. When he finally answers, his voice is so soft it’s nearly inaudible.
“I don’t know. When I was a kid and got sick or hurt, my mother never really cared or just ignored me, saying I was a brat or being overdramatic. It got to the point that if I was sick or hurt, I hid it or patched myself up. Sometimes I never even went to a doctor.”
“Never?” Jack asks incredulously.
Andrew flinches. “Once,” he admits quietly. “I caught the flu really bad when I was younger. I got so sick I fainted from the fever, and my sister drove me to the nearest emergency room. The doctors that treated me said I had developed pneumonia that led to sepsis. They said I nearly died.”
“Andy,” Robby whispers.
Andrew wipes at the tears building in his eyes. “It made me feel so guilty, the way the doctors questioned my sister and my mother when she eventually showed up. She made a big show about looking after me, but she was lying. She made me feel like it was my fault. I didn’t like how it felt, like looking after me was just some obligation.”
“So, when Robby and I were looking after you…” Jack trails off for a second. “You thought we were just doing it out of obligation?”
Andrew nods. “That’s why I tried to distance myself from you guys. I felt like I didn’t…” He swallows.
“That you didn’t deserve to be looked after?” Robby guesses.
“Yeah.” Andrew sniffles.
“What about when you’ve helped us look after each other?” Jack asks.
“That’s different,” Andrew says. “You guys deserve to be looked after when you’re sick.”
“And so do you.” Robby pulls Andrew close. “We love you, Andrew. So much, and I promise that you can come to us whenever you feel sick. You don’t have to hide that from us.”
“I’m sorry,” Andrew sobs in Robby’s neck.
“It’s alright, baby,” Jack soothes. “We understand how scary being vulnerable can be, especially when you’re used to nobody caring or looking after you. But we promise, you can come to us with anything. We will never judge you for that, and looking after you is not an obligation. It’s because we love and care about you that we want to look after you.”
Andrew doesn’t respond, but he reaches back to pull Jack close as well. The three of them move from the kitchen back to their bedroom, Andrew cuddling between Robby and Jack. He falls asleep to the rhythm of their heartbeats under his ear and against his back. Robby and Jack know that all of this is still a process for Andrew, accepting love and trust and affection in a healthy way, but they also know that they will be with him every step of the way.