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They pulled into the driveway later that night to be met with the lights still on across the first floor, warm orange pouring out over the porch the moment he shut the engine off.
Erebus had spent the drive home half-napping against the window, his left arm propped in his lap and wrapped wrist to elbow in clean white gauze. He still smelled of adhesive and hand sanitizer, the hospital worked into his shirt. Hours of fluids and antibiotics had taken the glassy look out of his eyes, but he’d still felt a touch too warm the last time Jupiter had reached over at a red light (to Erebus’s protest that he was still fussing), and he had deep bags under both eyes. He looked… exhausted.
As he should.
“They’re up,” Erebus’s rough voice said. “Great. Tell them I died.”
Jupiter turned his head and shot him a look, though he wasn’t certain if what he thought of that particular statement was visible in the dark car. “I will not be doing that, honey.”
“Then tell them I’m contagious. Or something.”
Instead of that, Jupiter stepped out, closed his door behind him, and rounded the car to get to Erebus’s side. “I’ll tell them the truth, I think.”
He offered Erebus a hand.
“Darling!” Saturn’s familiar voice made him smile, eyes flicking towards him. “Are you okay?”
Erebus groaned and took his hand, stepping out of the car and onto the concrete. “I’m fine, and stars above, don’t you dare freak out, Saturn. You should have gotten that out of the way when Jupiter texted you.”
“I’ll have you know, I did in fact freak out when Jupiter texted me,” Saturn said loftily, hands on his hips. “Because I got a text that my husband was going to be in the ER getting an infected cut cared for!” Behind him, Uranus peeked out through the open door, meeting Jupiter's glance with an uncertain smile. “When I had no idea he even had a cut in the first place!”
Jupiter granted him a little mercy, releasing Erebus's hand and locking the car behind them.
“It should be fine as long as it’s taken care of.”
Huffing, Saturn crossed his arms. “And I suppose Erebus will let us take care of it?”
“He will,” Jupiter said. “He might complain, but he will.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Erebus said. “I can take care of it myself, you know. It’s not that hard. I watched them do it in the emergency room.”
Saturn came down the steps. “Oh, I don’t think so! You’re going to let us take care of you, and you’re going to complain, but you’re not going to stop us.” He took Erebus’s face in his hands, turning him towards the porch light to reveal Erebus’s flat expression. Saturn’s rings shone bright against his cheeks, both hands still. “Just look at you, darling! You look so pale and gaunt and tired!”
“Wow, thank you for that comment on my appearance,” Erebus drawled. “I’m sure you see amazing looking people day in and day out. I’m sorry for being normal.”
Sighing, Saturn clicked his tongue. “You know what I meant!” He turned to Jupiter, who shifted in place and waited. “What did they say, Jupi? Did they give you something to give him? Has he been fixed up for the night?”
“They gave us antibiotics,” Jupiter said, lifting the small paper bag from the pharmacy to show Saturn. “I picked them up from the pharmacy on the way home. He’ll have to take one a day until they’re gone.” He nodded towards Erebus, who was still held in Saturn’s hands, his face unamused if a bit squished. “They cleaned it out properly at the ER, and the fever he has should come down tomorrow. He’s meant to keep his arm elevated and rest as much as possible.”
“I’m standing right here,” Erebus said, through gently squashed cheeks. “I can hear both of you. And I’m fine, it was just a cut from a fence. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can remember to take those stupid antibiotics and clean it.”
But he hadn’t moved out of Saturn’s grip.
(When he easily, easily could have.)
“Of course you don’t,” Saturn agreed, bending to press one, two kisses to his forehead as Erebus huffed. “Now! Inside, inside. It’s cold out here.” He released Erebus’s face only to close an arm behind his shoulders and steer him straight towards the door. Jupiter stayed on their heels close enough to hear Saturn add an, “I still cannot believe you!”
Uranus lingered in the doorway, stepping aside just to let them pass even if his eyes followed Erebus’s bandaged arm until he couldn’t. “Is it bad?” he asked quietly, eyes wide when they met his. “You stopped answering for a bit there, mate, and I looked it up.” He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Which was a bloody mistake.”
His lips pressed together in amusement. “I can imagine.”
But he knew Uranus truly wanted an answer, so he pulled the door shut behind them, locked it, and then tucked the pharmacy bag under one arm, the other around Uranus’s shoulders. “It would have been worse in time if I hadn’t made him go to the ER with me,” he admitted, “but now with the fluids he got and antibiotics it should be fine. We’re just meant to keep watch. They drew a line around the infection redness, and it’s supposed to go down in time. If it doesn’t, we’re going back.”
Clearly relieved, Uranus nodded, leaning into his side. “I’m sure Erebus’ll enjoy that.”
“Most definitely,” he replied, mouth curling up in the corners. Uranus mirrored him. “Now come on. Let’s go save him from Saturn. I was told earlier he doesn’t much enjoy our fussing.”
“Really, mate? I couldn’t tell.”
Both of them laughed slightly as they headed on towards the kitchen, where Saturn was audible still lightly scolding Erebus—this time about the when, if the “Tuesday!” Jupiter heard meant what he thought. His mind was already whirling with how their plans might have changed, what Erebus needed, what each of them could do, but it quieted at least a little when Uranus’s hand slipped into his, skin comfortingly cold and soft.
“Oh, and we cleaned up your dinners,” Uranus added. “Well, I did. When I got home. I saw they were still out, and I thought you probably wouldn’t want to have to deal with it after… you know, everything.”
Thank you, he wordlessly said, squeezing his hand.
He didn’t just mean it for cleaning up their dinner.
Uranus glanced at him and squeezed back. You’re welcome.
Jupiter was grateful—as he’d repeatedly been this semester—that he didn’t have any classes on Fridays, meaning he could take leave from work without having to think about anything but his missed office hours and one department meeting he had no qualms about missing. Normally he’d also have gladly taken the chance to sleep in, but this time he pulled himself out of bed around seven in the morning, leaving Erebus and Uranus asleep in bed. Erebus had his arms set against a pile of pillows and a completely-out Uranus sprawled over his chest, though Jupiter could tell he was awake just from the way he breathed.
(Years of listening to them breathe had given him a perhaps creepy ability to discern sleep from waking.)
But he didn’t make it obvious that he knew Erebus was awake, simply changed into the day’s clothes and headed down to the kitchen to meet Saturn, who was already sipping a cup of tea and staring at the papers the emergency room had given him, his brow furrowed. The kitchen was quieter than it ever was with Saturn in it, just the tick of his spoon against the cup as he turned a page.
It was rather unlike him.
“Good morning,” he greeted, watching Saturn’s eyes dart to him and thankfully brighten. “Did you have anything today, honey?”
“Oh, I certainly did,” he said, waving one hand dismissively. “But I canceled it. I need to be home to make sure Erebus gets taken care of properly. He needs his….” He pursed his lips, searching for the word. “Well, he needs us. Even if he likes to act like he doesn’t.”
“Yes, he does.”
Jupiter pressed a kiss to Saturn’s forehead when he rounded the counter, though Saturn grabbed his arm and tugged him down to steal a proper one, smiling into it. “I suppose you’re here to make breakfast for us?” He nodded. “I know you like to get your sleep when you can, darling. You should have slept in with Uranus and Erebus!”
“I can always sleep in on the weekends,” he said, lightly shrugging one shoulder. “And I thought at least this way we’ll know Erebus got some proper nutrients in him, yes?”
“Yes,” Saturn agreed. “And we can make sure he takes those meds.”
Both of them glanced at the opened pharmacy bag. “I’ll start on breakfast, then,” Jupiter said a moment later, already heading for the fridge. “You can enjoy that tea.” He paused. “Though I think Uranus and Erebus are in a rather precious position upstairs, if you want to add to your collection.”
(Collection being the growing amount of photos Saturn took of them.
Jupiter knew he was in a fair bit of them; he’d never minded. Saturn liked his reminders.
And Erebus needed his own reminder of exactly how much they cared for him.)
“Ooh,” Saturn gasped, laying a hand over his mouth. “I do want to add to my collection.” He left his tea behind on the counter, phone in hand as he swept away.
Jupiter smiled and reached into the fridge for the eggs.
The eggs were nearly done and the second round of bread in the toaster when the sound of footsteps gave away that Saturn was returning. Though that would have been obvious even without, since he entered fast enough he practically skidded through the archway before heading to him.
“Jupi,” he nearly sang, “I am so glad you sent me up there. Just look at these pictures!”
Phone held aloft, he shoved it in front of him—close enough to the cooking eggs that Jupiter opened his mouth to protest and gave up immediately—and flicked to the first photo. “Aren’t they just adorable? Our husbands, all cuddled up.” He pouted, bottom lip protruding. “I would have taken more, but Erebus grabbed my phone and almost dislodged poor Uranus.”
Jupiter fought a smile as he stared at each photo in turn.
Uranus hadn’t moved an inch since he’d left the bed that morning, but Erebus had, his good hand now spread wide across the small of Uranus’s back. “He was holding onto him the entire time. I got so many adorable photos.” He took his phone back. “Now I just have to pick one of them for my phone background! I’ve needed a new one.”
“Could you at least make it your home background, and not the lock screen?”
Jupiter shut off the range and turned to find Erebus leaning against the archway into the kitchen, his eyes half-lidded and hair a tangled midnight mess. One of his old shirts was hanging off his shoulders, the short sleeves clear of the gauze on his hurt arm. “And I was going to sleep in until you barged in taking photos like we were the last glimpse of—hell, what’s a famous painting?”
“The Mona Lisa?” Jupiter offered.
“Yes. That. Like we were the last chance to see the damn Mona Lisa.” He yawned. “Anyway. I’ll be—”
Saturn broke from his pout and surged to Erebus. “Right here! You’ll be right here, eating a hearty breakfast and taking your antibiotic. Isn’t that right?” Whatever Erebus might have said was lost as Saturn steered him towards the island and onto a bar stool. “Keep that arm elevated! I’ll be right back.” He darted for the living room.
Erebus rolled his eyes. “I can take care of myself, you know?”
Jupiter arched an eyebrow. “Honey, the last time you took care of yourself you ended up with an infected arm. That’s what got us here in the first place.” He reached out and laid his hand over Erebus’s good one, squeezing his gently. “Remember what I said in the car.”
“Yes, yes,” he grumbled.
Saturn returned with two throw pillows from the couch and gently lifted Erebus’s arm, pressing a kiss to his cheek once he set it back down on the pillows. “And… there! Jupi, is breakfast ready? I think I’ll go make sure Uranus is up. We deserve a breakfast for all four of us!”
Erebus watched him go. “I thought you two had somewhere to go today.”
With a noncommittal hum, Jupiter started spooning eggs onto a plate, adding two slices of toast and a few squares of the cantaloupe still in the fridge. “Saturn canceled, and I took leave. We wanted to be home.” He could practically feel the strength of Erebus’s eyes on him. “You know we would have texted incessantly to check up on you, and you would have ignored about half of them.”
Erebus grumbled something he couldn’t hear… and to his surprise, said nothing else about it, just picked up a slice of buttered toast and started on it.
(He was glad they were staying home. Jupiter could tell.)
Before he started doling out portions to the other three plates, he headed over to the opened pharmacy bag and plucked the bottle of antibiotics up, unscrewing the lid and tipping one into his hand. The kitchen was near-silent, only the droning noise of the air conditioner and the quiet sound of Erebus chewing on his bread filling the air.
“I can get my own pills, Jupes.”
“I know.”
Jupiter filled a glass of water and presented both to Erebus, who stared at him with narrowed eyes and then downed the antibiotic with a single gulp of water.
“There.”
“Thank you,” Jupiter said. “Do you want any ibuprofen?”
Erebus’s jaw tightened, and then he nodded, eyes darting to his propped-up arm and then down to his food. He didn’t say anything else, so Jupiter retrieved two tablets from beside the pharmacy bag. “If you want anything else, honey, just let me know,” he said, squeezing Erebus’s hand as he passed over the ibuprofen. “Alright?”
“Uh-huh.”
(He didn’t remember leaving the ibuprofen there, but one of them must have.
Likely… Uranus?)
And then Saturn’s footsteps on the stairwell sounded off again, and Jupiter set to plating the rest of the food so he and Uranus could eat… even if he did keep a little thread of attention on Erebus enough to watch him staring down at his plate, the corner of his mouth just a little curled.
They needed to change the bandage.
With one problem… Erebus was rather determined to do it himself.
“You’re one-handed,” Jupiter said, trying to reason with him. “This is all going to take more dexterity than one hand can offer, especially since it’s your arm that’s hurting.”
His husband didn’t seem interested in listening. “I can do it myself.”
“I’m not saying you can’t. I’m saying it’d make it needlessly harder.”
“I deal with needlessly harder things all the time,” Erebus said, snatching the tape from the counter between them. “This is just another one.” Jupiter said nothing about the fact that Erebus had been taking care of himself and had gotten himself where he was in the first place, instead sighing and standing back.
“And don’t just stand there and watch me.”
“I… alright,” Jupiter said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll start loading the dishes into the dishwasher, then. Just let me know if you need help.”
“I won’t.”
Despite his own resistance to it all, Jupiter stepped back and did what he’d said he would, slowly loading the dishes into the dishwasher as he listened to the rustling behind him. Only when it stopped completely did he turn, to find Erebus looking in the opposite direction with the tape held out towards him. It took a quick look to realize what had happened based on the folded-over strip of tape and the far more rumpled bandage. “Did you want my help?”
Erebus grumbled something.
“I’m sorry,” he said, fighting a smile, “I don’t think I heard you, honey.”
“Yes,” Erebus groaned. “Help me put on this stars-damned bandage.” He huffed. “Please.”
Jupiter plucked the gummy wad of tape from the counter and threw it away. “Of course I will. Just stay still for me.” He carefully unwound the old wrap and peeled the bandage away from the cut, lips pressing together as he eyed it. It was still a piece of work, long and ragged from the crease of Erebus’s wrist most of the way to the crook of his elbow. But the skin around it had lost its shine, and when he turned Erebus’s arm to the light he found the redness had faded away from the nurse’s pen line by a finger’s width the whole way round. “Thank the stars,” he murmured, stroking a short line against Erebus’s wrist with his thumb. “Look at that.”
Erebus’s eyes flicked towards his arm, his jaw tightening and relaxing. “Told you it’d be fine.”
“Was that before or after you let it get so bad it got infected?” he asked, grabbing the rest of the supplies and bringing them in around him before he set to actually renewing the bandage.
Erebus rolled his eyes, still not looking directly at him. “Will you ever let that go?”
“Will you ever let us care for you without complaint?”
“Touché.”
Jupiter chuckled a tad and turned his focus to finishing off the bandage wrap; before he fully let Erebus’s arm go, he slowly lifted it, pressing a single kiss to the palm of his hand. “I love you,” he said, meeting Erebus’s eyes when he finally glanced over. “And I’m glad you’re okay.”
Erebus’s hand relaxed in his grip.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Love you too, Jupiter.”