Simon awoke to his brain rhythmically smashing itself against the inside of his skull. He shook, feeling both weirdly cold and hot. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, burrowing deeper into bed.
Bram stirred lazily. "Babe?" he whispered, bringing up an arm to pull him to his side.
"Go back to sleep," Simon croaked, voice raw and painful.
Bram hummed contentedly and made to do so when Simon rested his head on his chest. He opened his eyes and started to sit up in alarm at the heat he felt radiating from Simon's skin, taking Simon along with him, who whimpered at the change in position.
"Simon, you feel really warm." Bram rested a hand on his forehead and frowned. It didn't feel dangerously high, but definitely abnormal. "Do you feel sick?"
Simon averted his eyes. "Not really." It was somewhat undermined by his promptly breaking out into a wracking cough. Bram rubbed his back through it, and when they petered out, Simon curled into him, groaning.
"I'll take that as a yes. I'm getting a thermometer, don't move."
He was back in a moment, to find that Simon had already retreated back into bed. He coaxed it under Simon's tongue.
"100.4. Not too bad. But you're not going to class today."
"But I have to! Professor Binns would kill me." Simon whined.
"Kill you? The man's practically dead himself. I'll contact him and let him know you aren't coming. And I'm staying home today. I'll call in at work."
"Bram," Simon looked at him seriously, squinting against the light stabbing into his head, "I'm really fine."
A smile tugged at Bram's lips. "Simon," he said teasingly, "you really aren't." He carded a hand through Simon's hair. "One sec."
He padded back into the room a minute later with a glass of water and a few pills. "Here. And drink that whole glass; you need to stay hydrated."
Simon rolled his eyes then winced, but took the proffered items. He held the cool glass against the flushed skin of his face for a second, relishing the relief. He then obediently swallowed the pills and sipped the water, which actually did feel nice on his sore throat, though he had to pause repeatedly to succumb to more painful coughing fits.
Bram placed a hand on his forehead again, trailing it down to cup his cheek. "I'm going to run to the store, get some Gatorade and crackers and stuff. Do you need anything?"
He shook his head.
"Okay. It'll only be a few minutes. Try to get some rest." He placed a kiss on Simon's head. "Feel better, babe." He started walking away, but stopped in the doorway. "And no doing anything while I'm gone! If you make one single attempt to go to class, I swear to god -"
"Fine, fine!" Simon chuckled. "I'll remain a prisoner."
"Good," Bram laughed, and left.
Twenty minutes later, he returned to find Simon as restless as he had left him. He rested the groceries on the side table, pleased to note the empty glass. "Can't sleep, huh?"
"I feel absolutely miserable." Bram felt a wave of pity and affection at the sight of his genuinely haggard but also pouting boyfriend. He couldn't resist teasing him, however.
"Oh, so now you're sick - eep!" This startled squeak was in response to Simon pulling him down onto the bed with surprising strength.
"Wait, you really should drink something, and try to eat something too, and I haven't called - stop it!" he said, slapping at Simon's hand, which continued to tug him closer, to no avail. He sighed, giving up. "Fine. But only if it'll get you to actually sleep." He wormed his way under the covers and Simon snuggled close, pressing his feverish body to Bram, who started playing with his hair soothingly.
And as the world woke up around them, both boys drifted off.