Was I bored today? Yes. Did I make a gf sambocade in honour of @hms-chill ‘s f a n t a s t i c fic Red Velvet, White Meringue, and Royal Icing and our boys Henry and Alex? Also yes.
Pls enjoy. Sorry theres no decorations but Elderflowers are Out Of Season
Hello! I love all the sickfic prompts, but if I could get "No, no, don’t throw up in that!”, "Don’t you hide that thermometer from me!”, "This is the third time I’ve had to put you back in the bed. Why the heck do you want to lie on the floor so bad?”, and/or “Put your arm around my— Or just fall on me, that works too.” for firstprince (preferably with Alex sick, but I'm flexible) that would be amazing! Thank you! -- hms-chill
@hms-chill This one is... uh... not my best work. Not sure what went wrong there. I used 2/4, because the last one has been asked again in a different prompt! I hope that’s okay! (... Honestly I hope any of this is okay, whoops).
AO3 link here but you can find the full fic under the cut too!
If Henry has learned one thing through living with Alex, is that come injury or illness, he’s nothing if not unpredictable. He can get hit by a car but remain level-headed when Henry is spiraling, agreeing to go to the hospital only to put his mind at ease. Then he gets sick and somehow manages to simultaneously act as if nothing is wrong, but also as if all of his past crimes have gathered into one big karmic amalgamation of punishing hellfire that’s burning him from the inside out. Or, in other words, he’s a couple of degrees higher than the average body temperature.
Of course, Henry is keeping an eye out on that 38-degree fever, but he doubts it’s a manifestation of any of Alex’s past sins.
He’s balancing a tray on one hand as he tries to open the door with the other, while David shuffles about his feet, eager to follow him inside. Alex has been put on strict bed rest for the day, despite his incessant protesting. The thermometer doesn’t lie (even if Alex insisted it was only so high because it’s in Fahrenheit. “So, you’re… 60 degrees below average?” “Why do you know how Fahrenheit works?” “To deal with you.”) Henry peeks his head in, keeping the door mostly closed to see how Alex is doing before letting David inside. What he sees, however, convinces him he has earned a vicious attack. If Alex is going for the hell on earth metaphor, he should know that escaping his punishment leads to a hell hound.
“This is the third time I’ve had to put you back in the bed. Why the heck do you want to lie on the floor so bad?” Henry says, placing the tray on top of the dresser.
Alex is lying on the floor once again, spread out like a starfish with only his head tilted to the side, facing away from them. He groans, unwilling to move, until David steps all over his back to reach his face, and attacks him with doggy kisses he knows make Henry feel better when he doesn’t want to move.
It’s a solid theory, Henry thinks, trying not to laugh when Alex yelps at the first lick on his face and scrambles to sit up.
“But the floor is cool. It feels nice,” Alex whines. He tries to play with David, but his movements are just uncoordinated enough for the pup to take full advantage of it. David jumps on him and brings him back down for more kisses.
Henry joins them on the floor. He finds the one spot on Alex’s face that David has not covered with slobber and places the back of his palm against it. “You might actually be hotter.”
Alex grins up at him. “Why, Henry, if I knew you had a thing for this, I’d have done it years ago.”
With two arms placed under his armpits, Henry hauls him up, despite the groaning. “And what’s it in this scenario? Getting a fever, lying on the floor, or getting attacked by your own dog?”
“Whichever you like. The dog part sounds the most pleasant though, so, you know, if you want to throw me a bone—uh, pun intended?”
“Pun was terrible.”
Alex mocks a gasp. “You wound me in my time of need.” He settles under the covers again, and Henry sits by his side, brushing the curls away from his eyes. He loathes seeing Alex sick, but there’s something precious about the way he looks up at him, the brown of his eyes softened with trust, the tilted smile on his face lightened with fondness. And though Henry prefers to see him bright and loud and so obnoxiously Alex, he marvels at the pure domesticity of this moment and how lucky he got to be a part of it and see him so undone and unrefined, so beautifully at home.
“So you admit you’re sick then? And you’ll stay in bed?” Alex sighs at whatever look Henry is wearing. “Please?”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. What d’ ya bring?” he asks, peering at the forgotten tray.
Henry plants a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Thermometer first. You’re really… feverish.”
“You were going to say hot again there, weren’t you?”
Henry comes back with the thermometer, places it under Alex’s armpit, and kisses his shoulder when he crosses his arm to keep it in place. “Don’t move it.”
Alex grunts a confirmation, or something close to it.
Henry heads back to feed David too as they wait, the puppy following in his footsteps. By the time he returns, Alex has retrieved the tray on his own and he’s eating the soup Henry brought him with surprising eagerness, considering Henry’s the one who prepared it.
“Love? Are you okay?” Henry asks, sitting at the edge of the bed. “What did the thermometer show?”
Alex looks up, twirling the spoon between his fingers. “Oh, it was fine, don’t worry.” He goes back to his food, pointedly not looking at Henry.
“Alex.”
“Aren’t you going to eat? It’s pretty good.”
“Alex, my cooking is not great enough for you to be this devoted to it.” Alex snorts but continues eating without replying. “Where is it?”
“I put it away. It was fine.”
Henry looks at the nightstand on Alex’s side. Alex follows his gaze and tenses.”Uh—”
“Alex, don’t you hide that thermometer from me,” he scolds without any real bite, and stretches over him to reach for the nightstand’s drawer. He moves to open it, and Alex tries to stop him, but he can still reach the inside of that drawer with no significant trouble.
“Fuck, how are you this tall?” Alex grumbles when Henry pulls back with the thermometer in hand. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because the reading is gone.”
“It saves the last result, actually,” he says, turning it on.
“Henry—”
39 degrees. Henry’s heart plummets to his stomach, “I don’t understand.” He rubs at his eyes, trying not to hyperfixate on the wrong thing. Deal with the fever first, don’t get upset about this, not now. “All right. All right. I’ll go get you some medicine. If I find you out of this bed, so help me, Alex…”
His expression must match the nasty feeling in his chest, for Alex grabs a fistful of his sweater and tugs him before he can leave. “Sweetheart…”
Henry squeezes the hand holding him with his own and detaches it, setting it back down Alex’s side. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
But removing himself from Alex’s presence is the wrong choice. It leaves him with a moment to his thoughts when his thoughts are the one thing he needs to avoid right now. Pressure started building on his chest since the moment he saw what Alex hid from him, and it keeps climbing upwards now, catching in a knot around the muscles of his neck, pushing against his molars. He can only hope it’ll stop before it reaches his eyes because if he starts crying now he won’t be able to hide it from Alex.
Alex, who pretends he’s okay, who hides that he’s sick, who won’t tell Henry he needs him. Or perhaps he doesn’t need him, and Henry is trying so hard not to board that train of thought because if he doesn’t fall in front of the tracks, it’ll take him first-class to why doesn’t Alex want me there?
But it’s so selfish of him to stress about this now, with the fever climbing like this. So he clenches his teeth, sticks out his jaw, and plasters on a smile he hopes doesn’t look too fake, small enough to be believable.
Alex is watching him when he walks in, a frown on his face, a thin film of sweat glinting on his forehead.
Henry sighs at the sight. “Love, how are you feeling? You don’t look very well.” He resumes his spot next to him, and hands him a glass of water along with two pills he removes from the packaging. He bites down a genuine smile when Alex places them on his tongue, scrunching his nose like a child before he can wash away the taste with the water.
“Well—blergh—well, right now I’m a little scared you’re mad at me.”
He checks his forehead again, then lets his fingers get tangled in Alex’s curls, pushing them away from where they’re sticking to his forehead. “I’m not mad at you,” he says, planting a kiss to the top of his head. “But you should get some rest.”
“Okay, but you’re upset, so.”
“I’m fine, love.”
“Henry, come on. Look, I’m sorry I hid it but—”
“It’s fine, Alex. What’s important now is you getting better, and if you don’t want me here for it, that’s okay—”
“Wait, what?”
“—but you have to promise me you’ll take care of yourself, because right now you’re… you’re scaring me.”
Alex pushes himself to his knees. He takes Henry’s face in his hands, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs. “Baby, baby, no. Hang on. It’s not—it’s not what you think. Like, at all. I’m so sorry I ever made you think that—”
“I know I can get incredibly overbearing—”
He presses his lips to his, the most effective way known to get Henry to stop talking. “No. No, shut up. Shut right up. That’s not it at all. I love having you take care of me, okay? It’s so…”
“Annoying?”
“Domestic,” Alex corrects, sending him a very pointed look. “And I fucking love you so much. But…” He lowers his hands from his face, and takes Henry’s to hold tight, squeezing when he’s uncertain how to explain himself. “I just really hate worrying you, you know? And… I know you’re going to worry, because you love me, but I hate seeing that look on your face.”
“What look?” Henry tilts his head, trying to catch Alex’s gaze from where he’s lowered it.
“… Like you’re scared.” Alex falls back on the bed, sitting up against the headboard. “I don’t want to be the reason you look like that. I know you’re well within your rights to do so, and I’m not exactly known for being careful. And yeah, okay, I’d probably be worse than you if tables were turned, but…”
He gets quieted down the same way, the tables already reversed. Alex smiles when Henry pulls back, a hesitant joy catching on the corners of his lips.
“You’re sweet, but don’t worry about me, love.”
“I’ll always worry about you.”
“Then you can’t blame me for doing the same thing, now can you?” Henry teases, grinning when Alex gets the most offended expression on his face. “I only want you to feel better. Focus your energy on getting some rest instead of hiding things from me.”
He lets Henry push him into a lying position and lift the covers over him.
“Not sure you can focus your energy into resting.”
“You can make the effort to actually lie in bed and close your eyes, instead of reaching for the laptop that I know you hid in the dresser, and which I will most definitely take on my way out.”
Alex groans yet doesn’t deny it. What he does, however, is grab Henry’s hand before he can leave. “Stay with me? Can you bring your work here? Or maybe you could… um… read? I like the sound of your voice when my head hurts.”
Henry smiles at the last part. He knows it’s Alex’s roundabout way of admitting weakness like he’s asked of him. “As long as you’re sure you want me with you.”
Alex’s grip tightens. “Always.”
He brings their intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of Alex’s hand. “Of course, love. Let me go get my stuff. Besides, I believe we’re well past any concerns of me getting sick, since you’ve already kissed me.”
“Wait, what?”
“Don’t you know that the quickest way to get rid of a cold is to pass it?”
“I’m like 99% sure that’s not scientific. No. No way.” Henry watched as Alex’s frown deepens, as he probably replays the events of the day in his mind, for once noticing all the proximity. “Shit. Shit, fuck. I’m so sorry.”
He returns with a book and his own laptop for later and climbs on the bed. Alex, despite his great remorse, must also realize they’re far too late to be cautious now, and he tucks himself on Henry’s side, his head resting against his chest. “I’m sorry for possibly passing on my germs to you,” Alex grins, though his voice sounds somewhat apologetic.
Henry kisses the top of his curls, splitting into a smile when he feels him snuggle closer towards him. “You’re worth it.”
