Tango stared into the mirror for a moment, taking a deep breath. He had to get himself under control, he couldn't go out into the room looking like this. Things were bad enough without adding his own tears and fears into the mix. One last deep breath, and he could almost convince himself that he was alright. That he knew everything was going to be okay. His hands uncurled from where they had been clenching to the porclein sink, his knuckles slowly fading from white back to their normal color. He heard the slight moan coming from the bedroom, just across the hall, and he winced before turning. Slowly, his feet carried him into the bedroom, his brown eyes landing on Steve. "How are you, bud?"
The look he got in reply was answer enough. Steve had been slowly getting sicker, and they didn't know why. Well.. they hadn't, but they had some idea now. All Tango knew was that Steve needed surgery, a transplant of some kind. Both the doctors and his own husband had been hesitant to tell him the details, each for different reasons. The doctors didn't want to worry him more than he needed to be. Steve, well he knew that if Tango knew there was anything he could do, he would do it.
"Come on, baby, you need to sleep. I'll stay with you till you pass out." He kept his words quiet as he carefully crawled up to sit beside Steve, his back against the headboard of the bed. The male turned, curling into his side and legs, the position known and natural to them now. Tango could feel the face pressed against his side, could feel the hand clenching into his shirt, one leg slipping between both of his to get as much contact as possible. He lowered his hand, running it slowly through Steve's hair as he started to hum under his breath. It was their song, it was always their song. The one song that let the male know that he was here. That he wasn't going anywhere, that he loved him more than anything.
"By now you'd know that I'd come for you. No one but you, yes I'd come for you. But only if you told me to.." His words trailed off, going from singing to simply humming as he could already feel Steve's even breath against his ribs. He slept a lot lately, it was okay. It was supposed to help him, heal him better than not sleeping. Tango had to slip his sleeping pills in with his food, but that was okay. His eyes closed, willing himself to go to sleep. They were going to the hospital tomorrow to see about the transplant, about if there was anything they could do to get it sped up. He needed sleep.
"Dave Tango, you listen to me, do you understand?" The look on Steve's face told Tango that he wasn't joking around. He knew it anyway, this wasn't a funny situation. The doctors had just explained everything, about how they would have to wait for the transplant until.. well, he had stopped listening, but something about a car accident, because it was a dangerous surgery to do, and they didn't have anyone willing to risk it. Tango had offered.. they were the same blood type, after all it, it just made sense.
"Steve, come on, we have to consider this. You need the surgery, babe, and I can help you." His words had started to come out more as pleas. They had been arguing this for at least twenty minutes. Steve wouldn't let him help, wouldn't allow him to do it for him, but he didn't understand. Tango would rather risk everything than to lose him because he couldn't get it in time.
"No! Promise me that you won't do it, Tango." He could feel Steve's eyes glaring into the back of his head as he turned, swallowing. "David Christopher..." A wince went down his spine.
Thoughts quickly went in and out of his head. He thought over everything he could do, what all that could possibly happen. He knew what Steve wanted, or needed, to hear. "Fine. Unless it becomes neccessary, I won't do it." The words were mumbled, but he could tell instantly that it made his husband feel better.
"Thank you. Now, I'm exhausted, the doctor wants me to stay here till the tests are done. I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up in half an hour or so, alright?" Tango nodded, slidding into the seat beside the bed. Their hands entertwined as Steve started to fall asleep, his head falling to the side. He let out a deep breath, and he could feel his eyes starting to water. If there hadn't been the stupid car accident, none of this would be happening. He hated this, hated the thought of one day waking up without Steve. He was his life now, he couldn't do it. The breath he let out shook, and a tear fell down his cheek as the resolution came to his mind. He had to do it. He loved Steve, and he hated that he lied to him, but he had to do it. Even if he... even if things went wrong, he would feel better knowing that Steve was alive, that he was healthy because of something he did. He refused to wake up without Steve, knowing he could have saved him.
Easing his hand out of the male's, he stood up, and grabbed the pen from the bedside table. The papers made no sound as he grabbed them, holding them against his chest as he leaned down to press a kiss to Steve's forehead before he moved around the bed and out the door into the hallway. He stopped, his body slowly shaking steadily now. Another few tears fell down his face as he turned, the papers being pressed to the wall, the shaking making his signature on the paper harder to read than before. It didn't take him long to get up to the front desk and turn in the paper saying that he was okay for the surgery.