“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” - SilverFlint but make it fluffffff. <3 - Kat
I wrote some ridiculously fluffy illness hurt/comfort for you @beneaththeblacksails! I hope this is something like what you had in mind. 💕
This is set in a modern universe of my own creation, which I call Hawaii verse or No Ka Oi (loosely ‘the best’ or ‘none better’ in Hawaiian) verse. Flint is a writer who lives in North Shore, Silver is a masseur who lives in a rundown apartment with Max. Our two Gross heroes met on the beach because of course they did.
Silver tries to deny it for a few days, but by the time Thursday night rolls around, he just can't deny it anymore: he's sick. Fever, chills, a cough, the sniffles, he's got it all. That's not the worst of it, either - he'd planned to have a date with Flint tonight and now he'll have to cancel.
A few hours before Flint’s supposed to pick him up, he texts him, reluctant: ‘so I thought I could fight it off but I have a bad cold, I can't go out w/you tonight. I'm really sorry :(‘
He sighs and puts his phone aside immediately after sending the text, lying prone on the couch in a state of sadness and deep, syrupy self-pity. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the screen light up with a new message.
‘I’d still like to see you. How about I pick you up, bring you back here, and make you some soup?’
Silver beams when he reads Flint’s message, not quite believing his luck.
‘that sounds perfect, I'm sure Max would like a break from me and my germs (and my whining, lbr, I’m not a good sick person)’ he texts back.
‘Great, I'll be there at 7,’ Flint replies, and Silver definitely doesn't hug his phone to his chest or anything because that would be ridiculous. Instead he heaves himself up from the couch and packs an overnight bag, hopeful that Flint will invite him to spend the night. They've only had a handful of sleepovers so far - all at Flint's house, since he lives alone and Silver does not - but they've all gone very, very well.
He texts Max, who's out with Anne, so she won't be surprised if he doesn't come home that night. Then he showers and changes into a fresh set of pajamas - lime green ones with pineapples printed all over, because he knows Flint will be amused by them. He settles on the couch to wait for Flint to come rescue him, and without meaning to, he falls asleep there.
He wakes a short while later to someone knocking on the apartment’s door. He hurries to answer the door, opening it and smiling when he sees Flint.
“Hi,” he says. All he wants to do is fling himself into his boyfriend’s arms, but he holds back, not wanting to share his germs right off the bat.
“Hello there. You look better than I expected, I think you're the prettiest sick person I've ever seen,” Flint says with a little grin. “Nice pajamas, too.”
“Flatterer,” Silver says, grinning back. “Shall we?” he asks, then steps out and shuts the door behind himself. He locks it, then follows Flint to his car, overnight bag in hand. “I hope this isn’t presumptuous of me...I brought my toothbrush and a change of clothes, and some other things, just in case.”
“Not at all. I’ll gladly have you for as long as you want,” Flint says.
“Careful, I might just want to stay forever,” Silver jokes, easing himself into Flint’s sleek car. It’s much fancier than his own island beater of a pickup truck, that’s for sure.
“Well, I’m certainly not opposed to that idea,” Flint says, and then he’s starting the car and driving off toward his house in North Shore while Silver seriously ponders moving in with him, even though they’ve only been dating a little while.
They arrive at Flint’s gorgeous seaside villa a short time later and Silver climbs out of the car, following Flint inside and whistling a jaunty (if somewhat congested) tune. He sets his bag down inside the door, standing still when Flint’s ornery cat Kapena saunters over to sniff at him curiously.
“He’s coming around. He doesn’t hiss at you anymore,” Flint observes as the cat circles Silver once, then trots away. “That’s progress,” he says. “Now, let’s get you set up on the couch and I’ll start making soup.”
That evening finds Silver curled up on the couch with Flint, enjoying delicious homemade chicken soup and watching a TV series they’ve been waiting to watch together. Once he’s through with dinner, Silver rests his head in Flint’s lap and falls asleep there, despite it being barely 9 PM.
He wakes a few hours later to Flint gently rubbing his back. “John,” he murmurs, “it’s time for bed. I’ll help you up. Do you want some cold medicine first?”
“Yeah,” Silver says drowsily, more than willing to let Flint stand him up from the couch and half-carry him to the huge, welcoming bed in the master bedroom. He drinks down the little cup of foul-tasting cough syrup Flint brings him afterward, and then he’s out like a light.
—-
When he wakes the next morning, despite the soup and the cough syrup, he feels even worse than before. He groans and buries his face in the pillow, whimpering.
“What’s wrong?” comes Flint’s voice, and then a big, warm hand is on the back of his neck, rubbing gently just the way he likes.
“I think I’m dying,” Silver mumbles into the pillow, turning his head so he can squint dubiously at his boyfriend.
“If you die, I’m gonna kill you,” Flint says tenderly, then leans in to kiss Silver’s forehead. “Hm, you are a bit feverish. I prescribe a day of rest with a handsome older gentleman catering to your every whim.”
“Sounds good to me,” Silver says, rolling over onto his back and stretching his arms over his head.
“Cough syrup makes you really weird to sleep with, by the way. You woke me up and pointed at the wall, then said ‘can you see it?’ I asked you what you were seeing and you said ‘all the barbed wire, and the demogorgon,’ then went back to sleep,” Flint says.
“Sorry,” Silver mutters sheepishly, feeling himself blush.
“I’m not done,” Flint says, smirking. “Around 2 in the morning you woke me up again, saying that I knew nothing about the swamp because I hadn’t lived in it and you had. You were pretty incensed,” he says, laughing. “Then for your grand finale, just before dawn you grabbed me, gave me a big kiss, told me to have an excellent day at sea, and pushed me out of bed to the floor. Then you stole all the covers.”
“Wow, I am apparently a dick when I take cough syrup. Lesson learned. I am really sorry,” Silver says, reaching out for Flint’s hand.
“It’s okay,” Flint says, taking his hand gently and kissing his knuckles. “I still love you.”
“I love you, too,” Silver says, feeling his heart beating a little faster.
Flint beams at him, and Silver feels that smile all the way down to his toes. “Can I make you breakfast? What do you feel up to eating?”
“Pancakes?” Silver asks hopefully, shuffling closer to Flint in bed when he reaches for him. Together they leave the bed and Flint walks Silver to the living room, getting him set up on the couch with cartoons and a box of tissues before disappearing into the kitchen.
They have breakfast together - pancakes, fresh fruit, and coffee - and then Flint makes sure Silver has everything he needs, fussing over him.
“Let me know if I can get you anything. I’ll be in my study, I have to get some work done today. But you can text me if there’s anything at all you need, I’ll have my phone,” Flint says, kissing Silver’s forehead. He shouldn’t like that as much as he does, he thinks. “You get some rest, and recover.”
“You got it,” Silver says, smiling wearily up at Flint. He watches Flint’s cute butt as he walks away, thinking about how very lucky he is that said butt is his to enjoy.
He falls asleep again and wakes a little before lunch, feeling restless. He gets up from his nest on the couch, ambling to the bookshelf to find something to read. To his great surprise, he finds a few titles he recognizes - J.E. McGraw gay romance novels. Who knew that a literary, educated man like Flint would even read such a thing, let alone apparently enjoy them so much that he’d buy hard copies to keep forever?
Silver reaches for one of his personal favorites - Captain & Quartermaster - and is shocked to realize he’s holding a first edition. All he can think is that Flint must really, really like McGraw’s work. He takes the book with him back to the couch and settles in for a comforting reread, slowly shutting out the world around him, carried away as he is by the beauty of McGraw’s undeniably erotic prose.
He doesn’t surface from the story until a shadow falls across him and he hears a pointed throat-clearing noise. He starts, nearly dropping the book, and looks up at Flint, chagrined.
“Uh, hey. Sorry. How long have you been there? I got really absorbed in the book,” Silver says.
“Not long. I just wanted to see if you were hungry, I’m going to order something for lunch,” Flint says, a curiously self-satisfied smirk playing around his lips. “So you enjoy that one, hm?” he asks, gesturing to Captain & Quartermaster.
“Yeah. I’ve been reading McGraw since— well, since I found a copy of his first book shelved in the wrong section of the library as a teenager, actually. It was a big part of my sexual awakening,” he murmurs. “You must really like him too, I noticed this isn’t the only first edition you have of his on the shelf,” Silver says, gently putting the book aside on the coffee table.
“...you don’t know, do you?” Flint asks, a strange expression crossing his face. He looks bewildered and amused all at once.
“Know what?” Silver asks. He’s normally pretty quick on the uptake, but being sick makes him slow and sleepy, and he’s not getting what Flint is implying.
“I am him. I wrote those books, I’m J.E. McGraw,” Flint says, folding his freckled arms across the enticing expanse of his chest.
“No fucking way!” Silver blurts out before he can stop himself.
“Yes fucking way,” Flint replies, laughing. “Really, I swear. I could call my publicist now and prove it. That’s why I have all those first editions - I wrote the books.”
“I can’t believe I’m meeting one of my favorite authors,” Silver says, rising slowly from the couch, feeling a huge grin threatening to overtake his whole face. “I can’t believe I’ve been dating one of my favorite authors. I’ve had sex with J.E. McGraw!” he crows, slightly delirious with both fever and excitement.
“Easy, there. You’re still sick, I can’t have you getting all worked up,” Flint says, easing Silver back down onto the couch and sitting next to him. “Let’s order something to eat and then I’ll let you ask me whatever you want about my books.”
“Okay,” Silver says, nuzzling Flint’s shoulder and grinning some more, his eyes closing. “Can we make out, too?”
“Hmm...I would be worried about getting your germs, but I probably already have them from letting you sleep in my bed. Sure, if you can stay awake, we can make out,” Flint says, slipping one arm around Silver and drawing him in close.
Five minutes later Silver is asleep again, his head on Flint’s shoulder, drooling and snoring. In his fevered dreams, he and Flint are a dread pirate captain and his beloved quartermaster.
