Started as a funny sick!Julian fic. Then I got sidetracked by a wonderful little Italian song at the end. Sung by Vittorio Grigolo (Tu Sei). Highly recommend listening.
It's Friday evening, the common room in Stuart house is deserted. Most of the student body is gone, carrying out their grand weekend plans. All except a certain prefect and his sick charge.
Julian has a god awful sore throat. The type where even your ears hurt, and your nose gets stuffed. Every time he swallows it's excruciating. It's making him more ornery than usual. He's bitchy, fussy and whiny. Basically Diva!Julian Larson minus all the charm.
"Go away. No more meds.." He rasps weakly, breathing through his mouth as Logan tries to shift him from his curled position on the couch, face down in a pillow. It's the very embodiment of the term - wallowing in self pity.
"Christ... Kill me now." Julian mumbles sullenly into the pillow.
"Come on princess, drink this." Julian turns his head to the side, cheek still pressed in the pillow. He eyes the thimble of dark brown liquid and looks up suspiciously at Logan.
"The instructions say it will relieve the pain...No drowsiness."He tacks on the end. Logan knows how Julian hates any medication that makes him sleepy. They make it difficult for him to wake and terribly disorientated when he does. A feeling Julian hates, particularly after the weeks spent in medicated haze. His body has learned to associate the heavy slow feeling as a precursor to excruciating bone pain (to be expected when the meds wear off).
What the heck, might as well. Nothing will make him feel worse anyway. He takes the little capful of liquid and downs it in one gulp. It's horrid; so sickly sweet it's numbing; exactly what he needs.
Logan turns down most of the lights and settles on the couch next to him pulling the squirming brunette into his lap, where Julian relaxes completely, draping himself limply across the blond's thighs. Julian rubs his nose on Logan's pant knee, not caring if he gets biohazard snot onto the expensive clothing.
Wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe, satin pyjama bottoms and one of Logan's old t-shirts underneath, it's lucky he's as adorable as any kitten or Logan would probably have smacked him a good one.
Nuzzling Julian's ear, he can feel the low grade fever emanating from the sick boy. He's already made sure Julian took the fever meds earlier. To the extent of crushing the pills and mixing them in a spoonful of jelly before nearly shoving it down the throat of the tantruming diva; spoon and all. It escalated to the point where Logan had to pin the shorter boy against the kitchen counter in a bear hug from behind and threaten to stick his tongue into Julian's ear to get him to open his mouth. The mess they made of the kitchen, he will deal with later. At least the effort of trying to fight off the prefect has left Julian tired and more or less physically compliant, if not verbally.
"This is cold." Logan warns before pressing a cool compress that he took out of the fridge onto the overly warm skin on the back of Julian's neck. The boy hisses but doesn't pull away, enjoying the brief relief it offers.
With his cooled fingers, Logan takes an earlobe between a thumb and forefinger rubbing and pinching lightly. Julian cringes, giggling despite himself, ticklish at the touch but relaxes after a few seconds. Logan cools his hand again on the compress, then wraps his long fingers around Julian's throat, stroking gently. The movement calms him and Julian extends his neck further veritably purring.
"Mmm.." Julian whines, unhappy when Logan stops his ministrations. He flips onto his back, head pillowed in Logan's lap. He looks like he's about to say something but is interrupted by a bout of coughing which he suppresses with the sleeves of his bathrobe.
When he can finally breathe again, he throws himself against Logan's chest and wails despondently. "Make it stoppp!"
"Ssshh.." The blond rubs comforting circles up and down his back. Logan's jaw muscles twitch as he clenches them. It's illogical and unreasonable he knows, but he's offended that Julian is sick. He finds it an affront to his ability to keep him safe from any and all harm. Something that Logan has promised himself and the powers that be that he would. How many bargains to whatever deities did he make in those weeks of late night bedside vigils, he can't remember. All he hopes is that they won't come asking for payment anytime soon.
"Maybe you should take the sleepy meds?
"NOooo!"
"Jules...you'd feel better."
"Sing."
"...what do you want?"
"Anything...-Lullaby"
"How bout an Italian one?"
"You suck at foreign languages." Logan chuckles. "I know! But I'm improving. You want a lullaby or not?"
"Fine."
Julian shifts to lie on his side in Logan's lap. While Logan pulls out his phone, searching for the file recording of the piano accompaniment he had made earlier, intending to review it for mistakes in his playing. But for now, it should do. He starts softly, unsure. Mindful that he's probably butchering the pronunciation. But when he feels Julian relax and sink deeper into his lap, he gains confidence. Logan closes his eyes, letting the words trip off his tongue, pouring emotion into the sung melody. It's wonderfully poetic; this little Italian song. The reason Logan chose to learn it in the first place.
Tu sei per me la storia che il filo d'erba dice alla rugiada.
Sei il viaggio della nuvola che al vento va prima che pioggia cada
Sei il sogno che non finirà quando l'aurora illumina la strada
Tu sei per me il fiore che rinascerà qualunque cosa accada.
You are for me, the story says that the blade of grass the dew.
Are you the trip of a cloud that the wind goes before the rain falls
You are the dream that will not end when the dawn lights the way
You are the flower that will be reborn for me no matter what happens.
He's scoured the internet and almost drove his Italian teacher to annoyance; attempting to understand it. It's as if the writer was trying to describe the indescribable. Like writing about love and being in love. And the simple piano melody that goes with it, just a few notes; but dancing whimsically like raindrops chasing each other, just at the edge of your consciousness.
His voice soars, letting the emotion edge it higher. The conviction reverberating against the wood panelled walls. There is a clarity in his voice that mirrors the honesty to the sentiments in the song.
Tu sei
Quello che non so
Ma sa dirlo il battito del cuore.
Se vuoi, io darò
Parole ed ali a questo sentimento
Che volerà
Dove tu sei.
You are
What I do not know
But to say he knows the heartbeat.
If you want, I will give
Words and wings to this feeling
that will fly
Where you are.
Tu sei l'acqua che non tradirà la pura essenza della sua sorgente
Sei melodia che avvolgerà l'anima mia con le sue note lente
Tu sei per me il muschio che la pietra scalda senza chieder niente
Tu sei per me il fiume che mi porterà con sé nella corrente
You are the water that does not betray the pure essence of its source
Are you melody that envelops my soul with its slow notes
You are to me the moss that warms the stone without asking anything
You are to me the river that will take me with him in the current
Julian is aware of all this. He found the sheet music among Logan's notes, the translation and implied meanings scribbled behind. He's heard the little melody filter through the door of Logan's room. And he's endured the frequent interruptions to the song as Logan perfects the pronunciation.
But to hear it now in its entirety; the familiar voice in an unfamiliar language. How it gives Julian goosebumps. A wonderfully intimate performance. One soul whispering to another. As if -love- could be summed up in those few lines. And yet, it does somehow. Beautiful.
Tu Sei
Quello che non so
Ma sa dirlo il battito del cuore.
Se vuoi, io darò
Silenzi e sguardi a questo sentimento
Che capirai
Soltanto tu.
Perché tu sei.
You are
What I do not know
But to say he knows the heartbeat.
If you want, I will give
Silences and glances to this feeling
What you'll understand
Only you.
By the end of it, Julian is in tears, sore throat forgotten for now. Logan is so lost in the song he doesn't notice when Julian wipes his eyes with the bathrobe sleeves. Neither does he realize it when Julian presses his lips against his thigh in a silent gesture of love and gratitude. A prayer of hope goes along with the kiss, hope that they do not squander their chances and that they be wiser in the future that they will build.