Hello Lovelies! Look what I found on my old computer! Upon re-discovering this cutesy one-shot, I decided it needed to see the light of day, so I posted it. Let me know how you like it!

I don't own Pentatonix, Superfruit, or anything of the kind. I just love them!

xxx

The pillow in his arms felt weird. Not like his own pillow. And it smelled like a familiar body. Scott rolled over with a sigh, his eyes still closed as he drifted out of sleep.

He opened his eyes and took a moment to orient himself. Oh. This was Mitch's room. That's right. They'd stayed up talking late into the night, and must have fallen asleep together. He closed his eyes again, letting himself sink back into his comfortable, lazy morning doze, now that the mystery was dispelled. This was such a peaceful, wonderful place to be, and he could reach out with his senses and find the place where the bed dipped with pressure and the warmth of another body lay beside him. There was the soft sound of gentle breathing. It was so comforting to know he was there.

Scott turned and opened his eyes, and took in Mitch's sleeping form. He was half on his side, with his knees pulled up, his arms held close to his body, the fingers barely peeking, curved around the cuffs of an overlarge hoodie. His face was serene, relaxed, and he slept with almost childlike innocence, that breathing making the faintest of sighs as he exhaled. Like a gentle angel. Light from the window was hitting the bed, making his skin glow, smoothing it like it was porcelain. Something in the way he was lying, almost cocooned in the covers and the black hoodie, a perfect picture of beauty and peace, Scott wanted to hold him in his arms. Kiss his forehead. Feel his sleeping body against his. He wanted to be there for him not only in the way a best friend could, but in a way a lover could. He wanted to be those secure, safe arms that held him at night, the voice that hummed him to sleep, the lips that touched his in a goodnight kiss.

Scott noticed something. Mitch was sweating, a thin gloss of the stuff coating his nose. Probably because he fell asleep with a hoodie on, Scott figured. He'd be hot too. It was a warm morning.

Then, with a sigh and an adjustment in his position, Mitch began to awaken. He pulled the covers over his shoulder and gripped a fistful close to his chin, "It's cold." He murmured in his morning voice.

"Really? You're sweating." Scott pointed out.

Mitch hadn't opened his eyes yet. He frowned and exhaled, then his face relaxed again, like he was going back to sleep.

"Hey you. Let's go get Starbucks." Scott touched Mitch's face, a playful jab at first, but then he stopped, his hand touching his brow. "Uhh, Mitch? You feeling okay?" He flipped his hand so the back of it could better feel the heat.

He shook his head.

"You've got a bit of a temperature. Were you feeling weird last night?" Scott was suddenly concerned, but tried to hide it. It was probably nothing.

"Yeah. A little."

"You're cold?"

A nod.

"I think you have a fever."

Finally, one brown eye opened and looked at him, the other squinted against the light on his face. The way his face was scrunched was just so adorable. "No, I'm fine. Yeah, let's go get Starbucks." But he didn't move to get up. He just lied there, his eyes closed again and his breath returning to its slow, sleepy rhythm.

Scott lied there a while, thoughtfully watching Mitch. Then, he carefully rose from the bed, untangling himself from the white and pink ombre comforter. His clothes from yesterday were rumpled from being slept in, so he padded to his own bedroom and grabbed a t-shirt and a hoodie, then stepped into some bleached jeans. He didn't bother fixing his hair, so he just raked it back and hid it underneath a backwards snapback.

The morning was bright and warm, so he bypassed the car and strolled down the sidewalk, his unlaced combat boots crunching in the first fallen leaves of the Autumn. Starbucks was just around the corner, so it wasn't long before he was in line for coffee. He ordered an iced vanilla latte and some iced black coffee, which he knew Mitch always got, then waited for the drinks.

This was routine by now. He usually felt perfectly at ease and normal, here in his usual spot at the corner booth. Except now, he couldn't keep his mind off Mitch. What if something was seriously wrong? Was he just run down from the last of the tour and had caught a bug? Or was it worse than that?

Once Scott got home, he dumped his keys and wallet on the table and walked back to Mitch's bedroom. He had to navigate around a grumpy Wyatt, who mewed in proper, annoyed Wyatt fashion and tried to tangle his body in Scott's legs. "Watch it, bitch," He warned sarcastically, then entered the room with the coffees.

Mitch was in the exact same position, sound asleep, and quietly breathing. Maybe the breaths were sounding a little ragged? Scott shook off his concern, and kicked the foot of the bed, "Hey, fucker. It's almost ten. You gonna sleep all day?"

Mitch didn't move.

Scott set the cups, slick with droplets of condensation, on the bedside table, sat on the mattress beside him, and touched Mitch's face with what he knew were icy cold hands. His playfulness dissolved when his skin was instantly warmed with his best friend's unnatural warmth. "Mitch."

Mitch turned away from Scott's hands and opened his eyes.

"Mitch, you're really sick. Are you still cold?"

"Mmm Hmm." He nodded.

"Can you sit up?"

He pulled himself up and propped his torso up on the headboard.

"Okay, take that hoodie off, and I'm gonna go get the thermometer." He left and returned with some fever reducing pills.

Mitch hadn't taken the hoodie off, and his eyes were closed again.

"Come on," Scott helped him, ignoring Mitch's complaints as he stripped the hoodie and shirt over his head, exposing sweaty skin, "Here's the thermometer. See if you have a fever. And take these pills."

"Easy, tiger," Mitch placed the end of the thermometer between his teeth, his expression one of endearment, "I'm not dying."

Scott laughed, but it was tainted by his thoughts, so it came out as a nervous, awkward one. The time it took to wait for the thermometer to register was agonizing, and Scott tried to calm that rising feeling of unease. Finally, with a beep, Scott took it out of Mitch's mouth and read the tiny screen, "One-o-two. Yeah. You have a fever. Guess you're not going anywhere today."

"Queen, I don't want to. I'm just gonna sleep all day. Eat that shit UP."

"Take the pills," Scott instructed, handing him the iced coffee and two Ibuprofen.

"Kay, Mom." He responded, taking the pills and placing them in his mouth.

Scott knew he was being sassy as an effort to calm him down. He probably noticed how concerned he was, so he ignored the comment. "I'm gonna make breakfast," He stood, "And let me know if you need to go to the doctor, cause I can set one up now if you need it."

"Nah," He pulled the blankets up over his bare chest, "I'll be fine."

"Need anything? I could go get orange juice. Uhh, chocolate? I don't know what to get for fevers so no cough drops."

Mitch regarded him with an amused half-smile. "Chill out, Scott."

Scott sat on the bed again, "Hey. Just do me a favor: let me take care of you. I'm worried."

He gave a smile and a sigh, "You could grab my laptop. If I'm staying in bed today, you can be sure as fuck that Netflix is gonna be on nonstop."

He handed him the device, which was on the nightstand, then touched Mitch's brow again. "Maybe you should take a cold bath." He suggested.

The man in the bed simply stared at him, "Fuck no, Scottie. I'd like to keep from getting hypothermia if that's okay."

His fingers began typing, so Scott abled away with plans of breakfast on his mind. Orange juice sounded good, but he'd have to leave to buy some. Waffles? They had an iron, but seldom used it. He'd have to pick some mix up too, and it was a little late in the day to start a project like that. He raided the kitchen to see what they had, and came up with a disappointing selection of cereals and microwave oatmeal. Sure, they'd work, but he wanted to do something special. Waffles it is.

So he snuck back out again and made his way over to the little grocery store around the block. He made short work of grabbing the items he needed: gluten free blueberry waffle mix, a gallon of OJ, some maple syrup, and he took some fresh strawberries on a whim. Mitch loved strawberries. He also made a pass through the pharmacy aisle and scanned for fever stuff, but came up was only a selection of ace bandages, pregnancy tests, and your regular painkillers.

The lady at the checkout annoyed him. He'd seen her be extremely rude to people, but she must have known who he was because she always turned into sunshine when he was around. He hated that she treated him better than everyone else, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Hey, Sweetheart, how's it goin'?" She beamed. An older woman, whose go-to expression was a deep frown, looked strange with a smile.

"Hey, Linda." He watched her scan his items, giving them a judgmental look as each one passed the reader.

"Where's the little guy?" She nodded to the empty space beside him, "Your boyfriend?"

He also hated that she called him that. He wasn't little. He was pretty average, standing at 5'10", several inches taller than her stooped stature.

He did a double take. Boyfriend? "Oh, Mitch and I aren't boyfriends."

She shrugged, "You do the cooking in your house?"

"Um, we share that." He felt uncomfortable; she normally didn't pry.

"What else do you share?" That one was quiet, maybe not meant for him to hear, but he did anyway.

He fumed, "Uh, Linda? Mitch and I aren't boyfriends. We're roommates."

She gave him a look, "Innit' he gay?"

He only stared at her, shocked.

"Ten seventy-three."

He paid, took his bags, and left, deeply perplexed. Is this what she'd thought of them? She'd seen them together plenty, but he never guessed that she'd come to that conclusion. How many other people thought he was Mitch's partner?

But then Scott thought deeper. Was he offended? Was it a bad thing to be seen as in a relationship with Mitch? They already joked about being married, or dating, or sleeping together, but maybe it was the fact that she seriously thought they were a thing. But didn't he himself wish they were together? Wasn't it just this morning that he thought about what it would be like to be Mitch's lover?

He was still caught on the thought when he walked into their apartment and dumped the groceries on the counter, giving a glance into the bedroom to check on Mitch. He felt a rush of fondness when he saw Mitch's head over the top of the laptop screen as he watched his show. Maybe he didn't mind the idea of them being together.

He plugged in the waffle iron and went to work fixing the batter, a small, thoughtful smile playing on his lips. Eggs, oil, and milk went in, and the aroma of fake blueberries hit his senses like a wall. Wow, it was intense. He ended up with more waffles than he meant to, but he stacked the five squares on a plate, sure that they'd get to them later. He then fixed two plates of food, artfully drizzling them with microwaved syrup and placing sliced strawberries on top. Throwing a couple whole strawberries on the side for good measure, he managed to get the food to Mitch's room without tripping over Wyatt.

Mitch looked up. "Wow, Paula Deen, look at that!"

Scott couldn't help but blush and grin like a moron.

…..

Night had fallen, bringing with it the usual calm and peace. The two of them were in bed again, Scott leaning against the headboard while Mitch's head was settled on his shoulder. They'd always been cuddly like this, but tonight it was different; Scott was filled with a kind of fierce protectiveness, and held Mitch's over-warm body close, as if his arms would keep him safe. Mitch lied alongside him, his arm around his chest and one leg over his, and thoughtfully played with the fabric of Scott's pajama shirt as he waited for the thermometer to go off.

A high pitched alarm, and Scott took it from between Mitch's teeth, "A hundred point two. Got it down some."

Mitch hummed contentedly, blinking slowly as sleepiness weighed on his eyelids. It was a pleasant kind of sleepy, and Scott's heartbeat beneath his ear lulled him into a numb, hypnotic state as Scott's arms found a place to settle around him.

My little, sleepy Mitch, Scott found himself thinking, a smile playing at his lips as he held the thin, smaller man close. His head lowered until his cheek met the top of Mitch's head, his baby fine hair soft against his skin.

"Will you sing?" Mitch mumbled, snuggling closer into his side.

"What do you want?"

A shrug, followed by a contented sigh.

"Okay, Snugglebug," He cleared his throat, then began, softly, barely murmuring the words into Mitch's hair, "I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord," He sang the first song that came to mind, letting the low pitches rumble in his chest, where he knew Mitch could hear it best, "But you don't really care for music do you?" He began to sway with the tune, rocking Mitch gently back and forth, and the words dissolved into humming.

The dark haired man's breathing slowed to an even, gentle pace, his eyes closing. Mitch's body warmed their little cocoon of blankets, and Scott was rubbing his thumb on his sleeve where his arms were clasped around him. The pitches in his chest turned to a different song, one he couldn't quite remember, but somehow his voice made the melody. It was an old thing, one that he might have learned in school, or maybe had made up, but he knew Mitch had been there. It aroused a memory of the two, being dorks together, just being young and stupid. Though it wasn't a specific memory, and was half hidden in his head somewhere, Scott smiled at the feelings it brought back.

"Mitch," he sighed contentedly, proud that he had the opportunity to share most of his life with this beautiful, sleeping creature in his arms. He placed a gentle, careful kiss on his feverish brow, maintaining the contact long enough to capture this tender moment and commit it to memory. He didn't want to let go.

xxx

I've been thinking about continuing this story. Let me know what you think!