Day Eighteen – Ambrosia (In a Time of Need)

He should have guessed this would happen, but that didn't make the reality any better.

The day before, on his journey to his dorms from University, Freed had been forced to wait in the rain at the bus stop for nearly an hour. A mixture of poor planning on his part and unfortunate weather had meant he only had his relatively thin coat as protection, and the cold wind and relentless water beating down on him had clearly had an effect on him. The sniffling, sneezing, and coughing was a testament to that.

Freed never got sick, it was a point of pride with him. He had a strong immune system and made sure not to put himself in illness inducing situations when possible. So the fact that he was sick annoyed him, and it also meant he was not at all prepared to look after himself.

Which was unfortunate as, living in university dorms, he was essentially alone.

What was worse was that he had planned to have a date with his boyfriend, which now clearly couldn't happen. Gajeel hadn't complained about the cancellation, and had been sympathetic to what Freed was going through; although he had laughed and called him 'Phlegm Face' after being assured that it was nothing more than a few coughs and a headache. Freed had laughed at that, which made his head spin, which he confessed to Gajeel, who laughed even more. Freed smiled weakly through the teasing, and thanked him when Gajeel said he would come to his dorm when he was finished for the day.

But now he was alone. He had attempted to make himself some breakfast, but the idea of cereal made him gag, anything with sugar would make him vomit, and toast was too sickly with the butter he preferred. He'd settled on a glass of water and a plain cracker. It wasn't a good meal.

He pulled his laptop to his side, opening Netflix and finding a show that wouldn't be too thought provoking to watch. Ideally, he would have spent a day off reading something – he's purchased the first book in a horror series that he had wanted to begin soon – but when he had attempted to read his head had throbbed and the words on the pages melded together into a blurring mess of scribbles. So watching crap television on his laptop was all he was left to do.

The day had been a hazy mess, and he wasn't entirely sure what time it was when there was a soft but firm knocking on his dorm door. He climbed off his bed, a little slower than normal, and opened the door. Gajeel was there, smiling.

"You're dressed?" Gajeel deadpanned.

"You'd prefer me naked?" Freed commented, sniffling.

"Most of the time, yeah," Gajeel chuckled, stepping into Freed's room. "But what I meant was, you're wearing a button up shirt and dress pants, rather than sweats and a t-shirt. Most guys wouldn't wear that normally, let alone when they're sick."

"Most men are weak," Freed commented.

Watching his boyfriend, Freed realised that Gajeel hadn't come in empty handed. He had a plastic bag, and was pulling out small plastic boxes out of it. Freed looked over them with a small frown on his face, not sure what was in them. Gajeel looked over his shoulder, chuckling at the expression on the sick man's face. He was less in control of his features when ill, and was clearly trying to find out what filled the boxes without asking.

"Change into your sweats," Gajeel demanded. "And get in bed, shit-for-brains."

"Traditionally, you're meant to be kind when your boyfriend is sick," Freed mumbled, reaching for his nightwear as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"I brought you soup, didn't I?," Gajeel grinned.

Freed rolled his eyes, the room only shaking slightly as he did so. He smiled a little as he changed into his sleeping attire, much preferring Gajeel maintaining his teasing nature rather than becoming an annoyingly nice version of himself. Part of why Freed disliked being sick – other than the general feeling of crappiness – was the unneeded sympathy it garnered. He didn't somehow become a fragile glass version of himself, and didn't need people to treat him thusly. And if that meant Gajeel called him 'shit-for-brains' then he was fine with that.

After changing and getting into bed, which was a lot more comfortable than he expected, he watched his boyfriend. The man had boiled the kettle Freed kept in his room, and was slowly adding hot water into the plastic box. The smell of chicken stock and vegetable filled the stuffy room.

"Did you bring me chicken soup?" Freed asked, his mind catching up to him. "I wasn't aware people actually did that."

"Most people don't," Gajeel shrugged, stirring the soup as he slowly walked over to Freed. "Most people ain't got the best recipe for chicken soup, though."

"The best recipe? That's quite a claim," Freed chuckled weakly.

He shifted to the side so that Gajeel could climb in beside him. The other man carefully handed him the box of soup, and Freed felt his stomach growl for the first time that day. He slowly brought a spoonful of the soup to his lips, and let out a small hum in appreciation. Although he was biased, as all he had eaten in the day was a cracker and it had just turned seven in the evening – damn, it was later than he thought – but it genuinely did taste incredible.

"Good right?" Gajeel grinned, wrapping an arm around Freed's shoulders. "Dad taught me how to make it. Called it food of the gods."

"Ambrosia," Freed mused aloud, and Gajeel looked down at him with a frown. "It's what the Greeks used to call the food of the gods. Some people claimed that it was responsible for a long life, or even immortality," Freed rested his head against Gajeel's shoulder. "I also think it's a type of custard. I might be wrong about that, though."

"Even when you're sick, you can't help but be a smartass," Gajeel chuckled with a grin.

"I thought you enjoyed my little bits of trivia," Freed smiled, bringing another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

"I guess I do," Gajeel agreed, pulling Freed closer. The warmth radiating off his body was comforting the sick man, and he was glad for it. "I mainly like that your face relaxes when you're talking about the stuff that interests you. Ya always looks kinda wistful, it's cute."

"You think I'm cute now?" Freed laughed, sniffling and trying to hold back a cough.

"Cute as hell," Gajeel grinned, leaning over and pressing his lips against Freed's forehead.

"Thank you for coming," Freed mumbled, smiling softly as he cuddled closer to his boyfriend.

"I'm yer boyfriend, idiot. Course I'm here," Gajeel assured him.

They spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, talking about nothing in particular. Once the food was finished, they cuddled down, Freed wrapped tightly in Gajeel's grasp, with a tired smile. Even though he didn't enjoy being looked after, he could make an exception for Gajeel.