Craig was dreaming about ice cream.

Specifically, he was dreaming that he was sitting on a plush carpet next to a roaring fireplace, holding a waffle cone of impossibly infinite coffee-flavored ice cream. Bright yellow and orange flames flickered almost hypnotically in front of him, their core a brilliant shade of blue. With every pop and crackle of the wood, a few sparks flew out into the open air, glowing radiantly before extinguishing into nothing before his eyes. Melting ice cream dripped down the cone onto his hand, but no matter how many times he caught it with his tongue, the bittersweet flavor of coffee and vanilla lingering on his taste buds, there was always more.

Craig shivered, his last bite of ice cream sending a wave of iciness throughout his entire body, even as the heat of the fire enveloped him. He lifted his free arm to push the top of his hat up a little bit, grimacing as beads of sweat from his damp hair rolled down his forehead. The sensation of feeling both hot and cold simultaneously was starting to make him dizzy; his vision was going fuzzy at the edges and the crackling of the fire was fading in and out like a poorly tuned radio.

He tried to breathe in deeply, to ground himself, but each time he inhaled, it felt like his lungs were only taking in half the amount of oxygen they should. His heart thumping increasingly faster, he kept trying, growing more panicked with each failed attempt. Coffee-flavored ice cream was melting steadily now, flowing down the edges of the cone and covering his hand. Craig brought it to his lips and slurped as much of it into his mouth as he could, but it was like someone had turned on a faucet.

"Craig?"

Between the melting ice cream, the scorching heat, and his inability to breathe, Craig felt like he was going to drown, or suffocate. A faint pop from the fireplace sent a particularly large spark through the air; it landed on his leg, near the hem of his jeans, where it immediately ignited into flames.

"Craig? Are you okay?"

Craig kicked his leg out, desperately trying to shake off the fire but still, inexplicably, compulsively, licking the ice cream off of his hand.

"Craig."

And then he was being shaken awake, opening his eyes to see Tweek, his adorably crazy blonde hair wild with bedhead, green eyes filled with ninety-five percent concern and five percent amusement, looking down at him. No fire or ice cream in sight, although he did for some reason still feel both temperatures.

Craig blinked twice, his brain foggy with dream remnants and an overwhelming feeling of lethargy, trying to make sense of the fact that his body was both burning and freezing at the same time.

"Twhnngn?" he asked, not registering until he tried to speak that he was currently licking Tweek's arm. He retracted his tongue back inside his mouth and winced at the fiery pain in his throat that swallowing caused. He tried to breathe through his nose, but was met with nothing but resistance from both nostrils; sucking in a lungful of air through his mouth instead, relief washed over him as the horrible suffocating feeling of his dream was nowhere to be found. He tried to sit up, but as soon as he was able to lean himself on one elbow, he slumped right back down, not having the energy to hold himself upright.

Tweek gently pushed Craig's hair back from his forehead, the amusement vanishing from his eyes, all concern now. "You're burning up," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Unngh." Craig groaned, the sound scraping along his throat like sandpaper. He shifted in place a bit, intending to adjust the pillow underneath his head, but he couldn't even muster the strength to do that. "Fuckin'...hot." The words came out low and growly.

"Of course you're hot." Tweek couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "But let's see if we can make you more comfortable."

He slid one of his hands under Craig's neck, cradling his head in his palm, and smoothly flipped Craig's pillow over. Craig made a little content sighing noise at the coolness of the fabric against his cheek that melted Tweek's heart. He brushed his fingers along Craig's face, lightly tracing his jawline. "Better?"

"Mmm," Craig murmured into the pillow. "Feet." He wiggled his legs, trapped inside a cocoon made of the entirety of their fluffy white comforter. "Fire feet."

His smile growing bigger, Tweek leaned down to carefully untangle the blanket from around Craig's legs. Craig didn't get sick very often, but when he did, he was whinier than a little kid. Tweek thought it was adorable, and he loved being able to be the one to take care of Craig like this. Tweek's immune system was almost nonexistent; he was constantly waking up the victim of some new strain of a cold or the flu, and Craig would always drop everything to play nurse, so as much as he hated seeing his boyfriend so ill, part of him definitely did relish these moments.

With one final tug on the comforter, Tweek was able to pull it out from under Craig's space-pajama-pants-covered legs and throw it to the side. Even with his hands a foot above his bare back, Tweek could feel the heat coming off of Craig's body; but as soon as the blanket was off of him, Craig started shivering like crazy.

"Dweek," he mumbled, his stuffy nose christening Tweek with a new nickname. "Cold."

"You definitely have a fever." Tweek laid the comforter back on top of Craig and scooted back up to tenderly rub his shoulder. "I'll be right back; I'm going to go get the thermometer so we can see just how sick you are, Mister."

"Mmmmmmm." Craig let out a longer groan this time, fumbling around with his hand before gripping Tweek's wrist with as much energy as he could. "No sticking anything up my ass."

Tweek bit back a laugh. "It's not–"

"Wait," Craig interrupted, seeming to have thought better of his previous statement. "You can stick you up my ass. But that's all." With a grunt, he managed to flip himself over onto his stomach. "Here you go," he said into the mattress, flopping his arm behind him in an attempt to smack his own butt. "Asses away!"

"Craig." As much as he tried, and as worried as he was, Tweek couldn't stop the laughter now. He was used to whiny, needy sick Craig, but this version of sick Craig was new. Fevers, as it turned out, were the ultimate filter eliminator. "We don't have that type of thermometer." He leaned down to kiss the part of Craig's cheek that wasn't mushed into the mattress. "It's just a regular thermometer that you put in your mouth."

"You can put this in your mouth, babe." Craig wiggled his hips in a halfhearted thrusting motion, which was fairly ineffective at getting his point across given that he was lying on his stomach. He turned his head to look at Tweek, his expression dead serious, though his gray eyes were slightly unfocused. "My dick, I mean."

"I know I can." Tweek tucked a lock of Craig's hair behind his ear. "And I will. As soon as you're not sick anymore."

"Hear that, Feldspar?" Craig murmured to himself. "Some hot throat action comin' your way." He let out a grunt of "Fuckyeahhh," and Tweek almost lost it completely.

Doing his best to keep himself composed, Tweek said firmly, "No action until you feel better."

"That's right, you tell me what to do." Craig growled. "You're the fuckin' boss of me."

"Wait." Tweek reached for his cell phone and opened the camera, holding it up to record video. "Can you say that again?"

"Hell yeah, I'll say it again." Craig raised his voice slightly. "You're my fuckin' boss, Dweek. You tell me to suck my own fuckin' dick, I'll do it, I swear to shit." Weakly, he held up a middle finger. "Fuck physics."

At that, Tweek dropped his phone, dissolving into giggles. He leaned down again and gently turned Craig's head so he could plant a kiss directly on his lips. Pulling back, he rested his forehead against Craig's and said softly, "I love you so much."

"Love you more, babe." Craig mumbled, his eyes closing almost of their own volition, the effort of keeping them open just a little more than he could handle right now.

Tweek gave Craig one more delicate kiss, this one on his forehead, before straightening up. "I'll go get that thermometer now," he said, knowing full well that Craig would likely fall back asleep within the thirty seconds getting the thermometer would take. "When I get back I'll take your temperature and then we can cuddle all day, okay?"

"Cuddle my ass," was the response. Tweek smiled down at Craig once more before reaching over and giving said ass a light slap, not disappointed with the, "Unnghh," Craig moaned at the action.

"Whatever you say."