It had started off with sniffles early morning, and tossing and turning. The steady rain outside was soothing, and letting off a mood of relaxation; as much as Matthew would have loved to give into it and sleep a few more hours, it was just too hot, and too cold. The consistent pounding of water droplets on concrete, and brick was absolutely hypnotising, but every blink caused a sharp pain, and the grumbling of a groan. The ceiling fan's buzzing quickly grew more irritating every minute he was conscious, and Gilbert's thrashing around was no better.
Picking up, and moving Gilbert's arm from it's current position around his neck, he called out to him. "Gilbert!"
After many failed attempts at waking his partner, he slowly sat up, and looked around the room. It was lighter than it had been an hour ago, the sun was finally rising, though the rain seemed to have gotten worse. A pain sparked in his head again, and he dropped backwards onto the pillow with a heavy huff. The fall must have woken up Gilbert, because he stretched, yawned loudly, and poked Matthew in the side.
He turned his head lazily to Gilbert smiling and blinking hours of sleep from his eyes. Before he was able to smile himself, the Canadian was pulled into a hug, trying not to recoil at the other's freezing touch. His head was tucked under Gilbert's chin, and he was lightly squeezed.
"Birdie, You're burning up. Are you feeling okay?"
The sickling shook his head, and there was a sigh.
"I'll get you some medicine, Matt. Don't move."
Finally, fifteen minutes later than it should have taken, Gilbert marched proudly up the stairs, balancing the pill and glass in his left hand, and holding a plate of already decorated pancakes in his right. Walking over to the required side of the bed, he motioned for Matthew to sit up, and gave him the medicine.
Seconds after it was gratefully taken, a fork had prodded at pale lips.
"Gilbert."
"C'mon, Mattie. Open up."
"I don't want to eat."
"You have to eat tons to get better, it's important."
"What, is than an American policy or somethi-"
"Maaaaatt."
With a sigh, the Canadian took the fork into his mouth, and slowly ate the meal, being served of course. (Gilbert couldn't let him feed himself is such a delicate state.) It had tasted heavenly, and the headache had slowly started to level out to a dull throb, and not the fan, nor rain, were nuisances anymore.
Pressed against Gilbert body heat, again, they had chosen to relax for a little longer, before Gilbert had to run to his brother's to pick up a few things, and run to the store to pick up a bit more ales, and eventually start lunch. Before he was able to fall asleep, shushed voices had made their was up to the vent, and the "Mon Dieu!" had given itself away.
"Gil?"
"Mmm, Ja, Birdie?"
"You didn't make my breakfast, did you?"
"..Francis is downstairs."
"Thought so."
Author's note;
One day, I will write something that isn't crap.
For now, I'll just write this.