Fandom: D.DADDS
Characters: R.obert Small & J.oseph Christiansen
Pairing: None, one-sided flirting/teasing, mentions of past R.oseph
Tropes: Flu, stubborn character, caretaking, unresolved sexual tension
Summary: J.oseph runs into a sick R.obert at the Maple Bay Marina and insists on taking care of him whether R.obert likes it or not.
Warnings/Notes: Honestly this fic is kind of a bummer to read, haha. I didn’t do it on purpose, but it’s a pretty bitter read
“Those things will kill you, you know,” said a voice to his left.
Even in the dying light, Robert had seen Joseph walk up (hard not to, in all that pastel and khaki), and was weighing the benefits of ignoring him until he went away versus blowing cigarette smoke at him and watching him sneeze.
He took a drag while he considered this, but the smoke seemed to catch in his throat. He turned away on instinct and coughed hard into his sleeve and from there his body didn't seem to want to stop. He coughed until his abdomen was sore and his eyes were watering, and then he registered Joseph's hand on his shoulder.
Robert ignored him and wiped his eyes on the hem of his shirt. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I own a boat,” Joseph said, gesturing at the yachts and fishing vessels bobbing in the water. “What are you doing here, aside from giving yourself an asthma attack?”
“I don't have asthma,” Robert mumbled, but he stubbed his cigarette out on the dock all the same. “Just needed to think.”
“Got a lot to think about?” Joseph asked.
“Oh, don't do that. I'm not another lost soul you can recruit into your pastel Jesus cult--” Robert just barely managed to choke out the end of his sentence before more coughs came ripping out of his chest. He ducked his chin to smother them into his collar.
Joseph's hand was still on his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asked. The sun was almost down now, but the dim marina lights had kicked on and even in the shadow, Robert could see how his handsome face had twisted up into a sickening, cloying expression of concern.
“I'm fine,” he said breathlessly. “I don't--” he cleared his throat. “Uh, I came down here to be alone, so.”
A breeze ruffled the flags on the boats with a series of overlapping snaps. Robert shivered and fumbled for the zipper on his leather jacket.
“Are you sick?” Joseph asked and before Robert could inch away from it, Joseph's hand was on his forehead. “How long have you had that fever?”
“I don't have a fever,” Robert said drily. “I'm blushing because that baby pink polo just looks so damn good on you.”
Joseph sighed, his hand still pressed against Robert's forehead. He looked… Sad? The sun was well and truly down now, not even a hint of orange on the horizon, and it was hard for Robert to tell in the dark.
Joseph finally pulled away from him and stood up. “Come on, you should go home.”
Who the hell do you think you are? Robert wanted to say, but he just cleared his throat against another coughing fit and accepted the hand Joseph offered him.
Getting up was a slow process. It hurt. At first Robert had associated the ache to whatever he'd gotten up to the night before. The memories drifted into a haze of hard liquor and he'd woken up on the floor instead of in bed, sore from his knees to his neck.
“You alright?” Joseph asked. Robert's grip went slack. The minute he'd gotten to his feet, gravity seemed to tilt slowly to one side and now the lights on the marina were shutting off in concentric circles at the edges of his vision. It was enough to make him nauseated as the spinning picked up. He fell forward into Joseph and could dimly make out the sound of speech over the buzzing in his ears.
“Easy, easy, easy,” Joseph was saying. “Easy there.” He lowered Robert to his knees. “You're really warm.”
Robert was too busy catching his breath to respond. Dimly, he was aware of his forehead pressed into Joseph's shoulder and then he was coughing down the front of that horrible pink shirt. He managed to choke out “ugh, fuck” between coughs, which seemed to prompt Joseph to wrap his arms around him in a loose embrace.
“You're really sick,” he said fretfully.
“I noticed,” Robert said. His knees were starting to hurt from kneeling on the dock but he was so tired and his head ached like he had 6 hangovers at once. His pulled back from Joseph's shoulder and wrapped his arms around himself. The ocean breeze cooled the sweat on his neck, making him shudder.
“Let's not stay here.” Joseph stood up again, offered Robert his hand again. “Go slow.”
Robert didn't have much of a choice bu tot go slow. Gravity seemed to want to pin him flat to the ground and his joints protested even the slightest movement. But he made it to his feet with Joseph’s help.
“There's a flu going around,” Joseph said conversationally as they walked to the parking lot. “I’ve been missing a lot of my regulars at Sunday school.”
“Mm,” Robert managed. As they got nearer to the parking lot, he started to fumble for his keys but his hands were shaking so badly all he really managed to do was rattle his coat pocket zippers.
“What are you doing?” Joseph asked. “I'm not leaving you alone. You're coming with me.”
“To your house?” Robert asked, horrified. He stifled a few coughs behind his lips.
“Uh, well.” Joseph scratched awkwardly at one of his temples.
“At least let me drive you home.”
Robert couldn’t think of anything to say so he just let Joseph lead him to the car.
“You can lay down in the back if you want,” Joseph offered.
Robert looked in through the window, taking in the dark shapes of misplaced soccer cleats, a children's novel, a few stray food wrappers. Uncomfortable reminders of Joseph's personal life. “I'm good.” He went around the back and dumped himself in the passenger seat, head spinning. The car smelled like Mary's perfume. Robert let his head loll, brushing up against the cold glass of the window. Through half-lidded eyes, he watched the lights of Maple Bay as they went by. Dimly, he could hear music playing, possibly even hear Joseph singing softly to himself, or talking to Robert. It didn't matter. It was just Robert and the cool glass on his face and the patternless flow of lights outside the window.
He didn't really notice when the car stopped. The flow of time seemed languid, relaxed, and he was so, so warm.
“Robert!” Joseph's voice penetrated the haze. There was a hand in his cheek now and Robert flinched away from the sudden cold. “M'okay,” he mumbled, trying to remember where he was. Gradually, he did, and then he repeated himself. “I'm okay.” He forced his shaking hands to undo his seatbelt buckle and managed not to wobble getting out of the car. Then he coughed sharply into his sleeve a few times and looked up awkwardly at Joseph, who was still standing around the far side of the car.
“Uh, well, thanks,” Robert said. “See you around.” He gave a weak salute and fumbled in his pocket for his keys, which immediately slipped from his grasp. Ducking his head down to get them triggered a dizzying, pounding pressure in his temples. He staggered forward and braced himself against the hood of Joseph's car. “Ah, fuck.”
“You're not okay,” Joseph said. Not a question. A statement of fact.
“S'fine,” Robert mumbled. He was exhausted and not at all in the mood for this. “Go home to your wife.” Joseph flinched at this and even as sick as he was, Robert couldn't keep the ugly smirk off his face as he poured salt in the wound. “Isn't Mary going to wonder where you are? Go home to her. I'll be fine.”
He staggered to his front door and had to lean against it to catch his breath before he could even think about maneuvering the key into the lock. It took a long while to recover, several minutes filled with gasping pants and painful coughs.
Then there was a hand between his shoulders and Joseph's voice in his ear. “I called Mary. I told her the truth.”
“That you're very sick and I'm staying here tonight to make sure you don't get yourself killed.”
“I don't need your help,” Robert spat. He shook Joseph’s hand off and promptly dropped his keys again. “Fuck.” To his horror it came out broken and cracked, more of a dry sob than a true exclamation. He dived down to grab the keys before Joseph could react and managed to stay conscious through sheer force of will. Pushing through the dizziness, he threw himself through the front door and collapsed onto the couch without even bothering to take his shoes off. “This is it, I'm sleeping. You can go home.”
Joseph flicked the lightswitch and cringed audibly, sucking in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. “Do you have medicine?”
The sudden light sent a flash of pain through Robert's head, which he resolutely ignored. “Sleeping. Don't need your help.”
“Alright.” Joseph's footsteps thudded away, but the front door didn't open. Instead, Robert could hear him clattering around in the kitchen and then the bathroom. Thoroughly annoyed, Robert kept his eyes shut and tried to fall asleep through pure spite, but as tired as he was, he couldn't manage it. He was sweating under his jacket and his skin crawled with a tight, almost painful heat. Worse still, he had the spins something fierce. It was like being drunk and hungover at the same time and it was awful. The fact that he had to keep stifling his coughs in his chest so Joseph would stop worrying and go away wasn't helping matters either.
In fact, he was almost grateful for the exasperated sigh that would have ruffled his bangs had they not been plastered to his forehead with sweat, because it meant that Joseph was near, and he probably had painkillers.
“Can you sit up?” Joseph asked.
“I'm having this awful nightmare about a home invader who keeps trying to make me open up emotionally.” Another coughing fit threatened to tear up Robert's chest, but he managed to stop it by clearing his throat.
“Will you just sit up, please,” Joseph said, sounding a touch exasperated.
Robert couldn't keep the shit-eating grin off his face. He cracked his eyes open and inched partially upright, propping himself up on the armrest. Even that small movement made his head spin. Determined not to show it, he kept grinning at Joseph until his cheeks hurt. “Sure thing, Nurse Goodbody.”
Joseph stared at him for a moment. He had a few things in his hands which he set down on the coffee table once he was done trying to be judgy. “Jacket off.”
Joseph looked at him blankly until the double meaning sank in, and then he turned red from ears to chest. “I-- That's n-not what I…”
Robert couldn't help but laugh at this, a few coughs slipping past his lips as well. He cut off the fit before it could build into something more intense and wiped his watering eyes as surreptitiously as he could. “You make it so easy.” He leaned forward and slipped his leather jacket off.
Joseph took it from him and folded it up, finding space for it on the coffee table amid the empty bottles. “Shoes too.”
“Fine, but those aren't going on the coffee table,” Robert grumbled. Leaning forward seemed like too much of a task, so he wrestled his shoes off with his toes and kicked them onto the floor. “Now what?”
“Now this.” Joseph unfolded the blanket he'd placed on the coffee table and all but swaddled Robert in it.
“...I can't move my arms.”
Robert wiggled. When his arms were out, Joseph handed him a glass of water and some painkillers. “Uh, thanks.”
“I can't believe you don't have cough medicine. Or a thermometer.”
“I don't get sick that often.” Robert shrugged. “I don't make a habit of hanging around little kids.”
“That's true,” Joseph said, looking a touch sad. “Are you okay now? Will you sleep?”
“I was sleeping,” Robert said. “Before you came in and started fussing all over me.”
“Of course you were,” Joseph said. He flicked the lightswitch off and Robert closed his eyes and lay still for a few minutes.
It was better now, with his jacket and boots off, but the painkillers hadn't had time to kick in and he couldn't keep shoving coughs down in his chest forever. In fact-- A few coughs wrenched their way out of his chest almost involuntarily and Robert rolled over to try to muffle them in the back of the couch.
God, his chest hurt and he could barely breathe, all his joints ached and the room spun and there just wasn't enough oxygen. He was dizzy when the coughing fit finally ended, and silver spots were winking in his vision. He waited for them to fade and then swung his legs over the edge of the couch.
“What are you doing?” Joseph asked. In the dark, Robert could just see his huddled form on the floor.
“Medicating,” Robert replied hoarsely. He started to walk toward the kitchen.
Joseph followed. “I thought you didn't have any medicine.”
“I don't.” Robert yanked open one of his cabinets and studied the contents for a moment before grabbing a bottle of cheap whiskey. He unscrewed the top and took a swig, then turned around for a glass.
“Absolutely not,” Joseph said. “You're going to make yourself worse. You need water.”
“Water's not gonna help me sleep this off.”
“Well, then--” Joseph sighed. “I'll go to the store.”
“Don't bother. Go home. I don't need to be looked after.” Robert held a steely silence for a brief second before it was undermined by spastic, convulsive coughs that had his shoulders shaking. He let Joseph take the whiskey bottle from him and sank to the kitchen floor. “Throat hurts,” he said pointedly.
“Whiskey's not gonna help.”
“Do you have any tea or anything?”
“Why are you being so-- Ugh.” Joseph sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Come on, let me take you to bed.”
“I thought we weren't doing that any more,” Robert said before he could stop himself. He let his eyes slide shut and could hear Joseph taking deep breaths.
When he spoke again, his tone was measured and calm. “I'm helping you up.” He hauled Robert to his feet and steered him toward the bedroom. “At least it'll be more comfortable than the couch. Maybe you'll be able to get some sleep.”
“Mm,” Robert managed. He said under the covers and closed his eyes. “This is better,” he said hazily.
“I'm staying. Let me know if you need anything.”
The phrase “I won't” didn't make it through Robert's lips. Neither did “thank you.”
