Fang wasn't amused. Though it was only January, he was totally done with winter. The snow in Maine was terrible and constant that they could hardly get out of the house. Snow was up to the windows, their drafty antique house was freezing, and runny noses seemed perpetual. This week had been particularly miserable, though.
About three days ago, Fang came down with a terrible cold. He had been flat out either in bed or on the sofa, moving only to go from one to the other, his head spinning every time he tried to stand up. He had a fever of as high as 101 degrees, and his nose was less than useless. Though he was in a rather pathetic and sorry state, he felt bad for Iggy more so than for himself. Iggy was his life, his reason for living, his perfect angel. He begged to be snuggled and loved and taken care of. Iggy was nowhere near dependent on Fang, but Fang liked to pretend he was. He loved spoiling him and treating him. Iggy was so easy to please, always grinning and laughing, and Fang loved it when Iggy smiled. The problem was that Fang couldn't sit up, and it's very difficult to be romantic when you can only lay still on the sofa.
It started about three days ago with a little sore throat. Then came the runny nose. The second day was when the cough started, but this morning, the third morning, was terrible. His nose was runny and stuffed to the point he felt like his sinuses would burst. He had a high fever, a pain right under his wings (common for a bird kid with a cold) and a terrible cough that would only stop if he laid perfectly still and quietly. He felt like a puddle, damp and drippy and stagnant, but the worst part was that he had left Iggy with the task of taking care of him, and Fang didn't want that. He was supposed to protect Iggy. Iggy was his cutie pie, his baby doll, not his caretaker. He was supposed to bring Iggy breakfast in bed and surprise gifts from town and give him lots of kisses and love. He didn't want Iggy to have to take care of him, but he didn't have much of a choice.
Fang's dark eyes fluttered open suddenly. He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep. Iggy was sitting on the edge of the sofa next to him, running a hand through his silky black hair soothingly, a large mug of tea sitting on the coffee table.
"Iggy…" Fang croaked, his voice all but lost.
"Hey Sleeping Beauty." He replied with a smile. "Feeling okay?" Fang gagged out a cough in reply. "My poor baby. Here have a sip." He said, feeling around on the coffee table until he felt the warmth of the mug on his fingertips. He handed it to Fang, who propped his head up ever so slightly with his elbow and drank a bit. Everything Iggy made tasted good, even Max's old dinner disasters could be turned into something enjoyable in no time at all, and this tea was no exception. It was like melted honey and lemonade, laced with a sweet sprinkling of sugar. It instantly warmed up his shivering, miserable body and calmed his cough.
"Thanks." He said, pulling the blanket up around his neck, shifting in an attempt to get warmer. Iggy heard the slip of fabric on fabric and knew Fang was shifting around with the blanket, so he stood up slowly and walked carefully to the armchair where the extra blankets lived when not in use, and felt around for the thick afghan Grandma Martinez had made them as a housewarming gift. It was the coziest blanket in the entire world, and big enough to cover the bed. It would easily toasty-up Fang.
"Better?" Fang nodded.
"mm hm. Thanks, Iggy."
"not a problem. You do so much for me, it's the least I can do."
"You shouldn't have to take care of me. I'm supposed to take care of you." Fang put his shaky hand on Iggy's and held it. Iggy smiled, closing his eyes. He often closed his eyes at unexpected times, but he didn't seem to notice. It made Fang laugh, and when he mentioned it, Iggy would simply reply: 'I don't have anything else to do with them.' and gave a little shrug along with a happy sort of giggle. Fang smiled thinking about it.
"Oh be quiet you talk about me like I'm a wimpy girl or something. I can take care of you!"
"I know you CAN, but I don't want you to!" Fang replied with a smile.
"Don't worry about it. Just worry about feeling better. I miss snuggling up with you at night because SOMEONE won't let me sleep with him."
"I don't want you to get sick."
"No you just want the bed to yourself so you can spend some quality time with your pillow and your snoring." Iggy laughed. Fang tried to join him, but wound up gagging and coughing instead.
"I love you."
"I love you too." Iggy replied, carefully sliding the elastic out of Fang's hair then combing the loose, dark strands off of his sweaty forehead. He then retied Fang's long ponytail. "Are you hungry? It's around lunchtime."
"No…" Fang mumbled, hanging his hand down to the floor, feeling around for the remote. "you eat, though."
"I made those little star noodles. You know, the ones you eat when you're sick?"
"Aw you didn't have to do that…Make something for yourself, you don't have to eat that."
"It's alright. I like them. Remember when we were little; when we first moved in with Jeb and I got sick?"
"mm hm." Fang smiled, remembering how sweet Iggy looked all snuggled up in his bed. "I had to feed you."
"Because I couldn't find the bowl. Man, I was messed up those first few months!" he said, making light of himself.
"No you weren't. You were perfect."
"Fang I was helpless. I walked into everything, remember?"
"I remember when Nudge tried to beat you up for walking into her Barbie Dream House."
"Oh shut up." Iggy said, giving Fang a little nudge on the shoulder before running his hand across Fang's cheek. He was hot to the touch, but shivered, even though he was obviously perspiring. He was like an ice cube on pavement in the summer: hot and cold at the same time. "Barbie shoes hurt when you step on them."
"Not as much as Gazzy's Lego's." he chuckled hoarsely. Iggy smiled.
"You're right." He said, retrieving a bowl of little pasta stars in broth and sitting on the loveseat, just to the right of the sofa where Fang was laying. Fang flipped channels, looking for something mildly entertaining while Iggy listened to the little snippets of sentences and voices as the channels changed. Iggy found it funny when voices popped in and out of the television, especially when it was timed perfectly and two channels created funny phrases like 'my wife—terrible—cooking' or 'Baby—ate—the car'. Fang eventually settled for something on the Discovery Channel. The sounds of Planet Earth made Iggy smile, as did Sigourney Weaver's soothing voice. Iggy loved listening to the sounds of the water and animals. He liked imagining what they looked like, for he didn't have the chance to see most of them before he lost his sight.
"Iggy?" Fang said after a little while of quiet.
"Yah?"
"I don't know what I'd do without you." Iggy smiled and was silent for a moment before saying
"I do."
"What?" Fang asked, not expecting a response."
"Die on this sofa." They both laughed. It was the best medicine, after all.
