So I've been writing drabbles off various prompts, virtually all of them sick!fics, and some I've thought are actually okay enough to share.
So, without further ado, I give you this: Niff. Based off the word, fantasy.
"Nick! You ready?" Jeff knocked on his boyfriend's door, fumbling through his wallet for the spare key. "If we leave now, we can get to the convention and be back in time for tea…" He unlocked the door. "You decent? Not that I care, really, you're one of the very few out there who can pull off a birthday suit, but Thad, who's pretending not to listen to us might have something to say about it." When he was met with no response, he slowly pushed open the oak, hinges creaking. "Oh, Nick…"
The brunette was slouched on the floor, leaning against his mattress, pale face with black eyes. "Heh'ngt! Ngt! Ugh… Give be a bidute, I'll be ready." But his eyes were closed, one hand kneading his forehead while the other steadied himself on the floor.
"No. No way." Jeff was instantly at his side, already moving to pick the boy off the floor. "Babe, you look horrible. Beautiful, but horrible…"
"Well, that's a relief, cos I feel horrible." Nick sniffed, burying his head into Jeff's neck. "Heh'chuh! You should go without be…"
"There's no way I'm leaving you, sweetie," Jeff pushed the feverish boy under the covers, kissing his puffed-up sinuses. "Just give me five minutes." He settled Nick down, pulling the doona halfway up and propping him up on pillows, before hurrying back out the door.
True to his word, five minutes and a trip to Wes later, Jeff was back in Nick's solo room, armed with a box of supplies as he sat cross-legged facing Nick.
"I'b a bit tired for the kitched sikk, Jeff…" he groaned, letting loose a chest-rattling cough.
"Good thing I left it in Wes' room then." He started unpacking. "Tea, hot water, milk and sugar. No, not cream. Milk."
Nick stuck his tongue out. "Yeah, I dod't get that ode either."
"Tissues. We all tease Blaine for his sneezing fits, but I've seen how you get, and from the sounds of your nasals, we're gonna need them. But you have to stop stifling them, okay? Because I don't want your eardrum flying out the side of your face and hitting me."
Nick smiled. "Yes, Bob."
"Name's Jeff, actually." That merited a weak slap on the hand. "Thermometer, pseudoephedrine, vitamin C tablets, Butter-Menthols, paracetamol which we're probably not going to use, Ventolin, and Tim-Tams. I know your test is next week, so if you're up for food, we may as well OD on the good quality chocolate and gluten, hey?"
Nick shook his head. "Babe, you spoil be."
Finally Jeff crawled into bed with Nick, setting up his laptop. "And for the grand finale… if I can't take you to the con, then I'll bring it to you." He pulled the sneezing boy into his lap, trying to kiss away some of the virus, as they begun to watch the screen. "Let's go kick this cold's butt like Sam and Dean do demons."
And back to TSAB. Blaine is being seriously annoying. You should all go yell at him and tell him to get in the ambulance.
Like it? Hate it? Want me to one day discover that I am, in fact, God, and that you all do not, in fact, exist and are merely projections? Please let me know.
Keep smiling! :D