Warning for illness in this chapter and mentions of physical/sexual abuse in the second chapter.
Thomas sighs as the side door lock clicks open loudly, which Thomas knows means that Chris has arrived.
Waking up stupidly early is never pleasant, but some days it is just impossible.
His alarm has gone off some minutes ago, but the blankets and Richard beside him are warm and comfortable, and he cannot bring himself to stand up and leave the bed, despite already being awake.
Thomas does not want to wake Richard, but when Richard stirs and opens his eyes, he decides to carry on.
"Richard, shall I tell the Downton staff that I am ill?" He murmurs, nuzzling into Richard's neck and meaning the question as a joke.
To his surprise, Richard wakes up and sits up quickly. He is not usually very awake for quite a while after actually waking up.
"Are you ill?" Richard asks, concernedly.
He presses the back of his left hand to Thomas's forehead, checking for a temperature.
Thomas finds the entire act quite ridiculous, but knows better than to put up a fuss when Richard becomes like this.
He makes a note not to use that particular choice of words again in future.
He huffs and tries to stand, but Richard has already pulled his hand away as though burnt.
"Thomas, you are burning up!" He exclaims.
Funny, he rather thought the room was cold. He looks down to see that he has unconsciously wrapped the blankets around himself as he stands up.
"You cannot possibly work today." Richard says firmly.
Thomas starts to argue, but Richard stops him with an unquestionable finality in his voice.
"You will stay here all day, and I will watch you."
"But you are working!" Thomas insists.
"Downstairs, not far away. And anyway, today is Wednesday. I can close the shop if I need to." Richard leaves no room for objections.
A moody silence rests between them until Thomas breaks it again.
"Well, at least allow me to brush my teeth." Thomas tells Richard.
"Alright." Richard relents.
Thomas pushes the duvet off the bed, stumbling towards the bathroom. Just as he reaches the entryway, he sways unsteadily and would have fallen if Richard was not incredibly quick to stand up and catch him.
Or perhaps he had been behind Thomas the entire time. Thomas cannot rightly say with all the haze in his head impeding his more useful thoughts.
"Right. You are not going anywhere, Mr Barrow. Come back to the bed." Richard instructs.
Thomas is suddenly too weak and feverish to manage, and Richard all but carries him back to the bed, gently setting him on top.
Richard walks down the corridor towards the medical supplies kept in the spare bedroom. He retrieves a thermometer and returns to their bedroom, placing it in Thomas's mouth, much more easily than usual given that Thomas is too tired to protest.
Richard waits patiently for the thermometer to indicate that it has taken a temperature, using the time to observe Thomas's loose hair and intensely sweating body. In fact, his clothes are completely soaked through with sweat.
He takes the thermometer out. "101 degrees*! Thomas, you most certainly are not going anywhere. Lie back down."
He pauses in thought for a moment. "Actually, you should change out of your wet clothes lest you catch a chill."
Thomas is in no position to argue, so he lets Richard change him into his lighter pyjamas so that he will not saturate them with sweat quickly.
Thomas shivers and the tremor moves through Richard's hands as well, braced as they are on Thomas's shoulders.
"Right. Well, stay there. Although I doubt that you can do much else, at this point." Richard instructs, before realising how that might have sounded.
"At any other time, you are more than capable, but you need to rest." Richard amends.
Thomas does not respond, but he lies back tiredly against the pillows, which Richard takes as an indication that he has heard and agrees - or at least is not going to disagree.
"I will let your folks up at Downton know that you are ill when I walk past to the doctor's clinic. Alright?" Richard informs Thomas.
Thomas nods weakly and Richard is given the impression that he might be in discomfort, but when he asks, Thomas waves him off, insisting that he 'get on with it.'
Richard dresses and brings Thomas a cup of water, a cup of tea, and some spare food items from the previous evening's tea once he has warmed the latter two items up.
Thomas drinks a sip of the tea, nodding and humming contentedly in approval. Richard smiles at how sweet Thomas looks curled up in blankets like he is now.
"I will be back very soon." Richard promises, and at Thomas's nod, he takes his leave.
...
Thomas hears Richard descend the stairs to the shop, his shoes clicking softly against the floor, as though mindful not to make too much noise and disturb Thomas.
Richard is so wonderful.
He can hear Richard speaking to Chris downstairs.
"Good morning, Mr Webster." Richard greets Chris.
"Morning, Mr Ellis. Is Thomas alright?" Chris's voice drifts upstairs.
Thomas wonders how Chris can know that something is wrong. He may have noticed that he has not yet seen Thomas, that the side door was not left unlocked like it usually is, or there may be some indication on Richard's face, which Thomas cannot see at the moment.
Thomas would very much like to know how Chris is aware, but Richard does not press the point, so Thomas has no chance to find out.
"He is unwell. I am going to see Dr Clarkson to obtain some advice on what to give him. Would you mind watching the store for an hour or two?" Richard explains instead.
Chris hums, evidently unsurprised but definitely not unconcerned. "That is what you pay me for, Mr Ellis, unless I am mistaken."
Chris must have noticed Richard's stiff silence during his attempt at humour, and wisely changes the topic. "Does he have a sore throat or fever?"
Richard pauses. "I do not know about the sore throat, but he has a fever - 101 degrees. Do you know what he has?"
Chris does not say anything for several moments.
"I think it's nothing more than a case of flu and fever. But I have no medical experience, so please do not take my word on that."
There is a layer belying the words, and Thomas gets the impression that Chris is speaking from experience, possibly from catching many diseases whilst in prison.
Richard laughs and Thomas can tell that he is smiling, but he can tell that both are very strained and tight.
Apparently, Chris notices as well, since he moves towards ending the conversation. "Well, I'll let you be off then."
Richard's steps move across the floor downstairs for a moment until he is called back.
"Richard?" Chris asks.
"Yes?" Richard might be impatient to leave, but he is cordial and respectful as always.
"It's just that…." Chris trails off.
Thomas is unsure if Chris will continue, but then he does, the words apparently spilling out of his mouth.
"I became ill several times in my childhood and in prison, and I always found that lemon and honey mixed together and served warm does wonders for a sore throat. May I make some up for Thomas?" Chris asks.
Thomas is certain that Richard is at least a little bit sceptical, but he keeps his apprehension out of his voice and, Thomas imagines, out of his expression as well.
"I wouldn't want you to catch whatever has made him ill." Richard hedges.
"I can leave it at the edge of the stairs. I won't go upstairs, Richard. I promise." Chris insists.
Thomas suspects that both Chris and Richard are speaking in regard to something other than catching Thomas's illness, but neither of them mention it.
Richard eventually relents, speaking softly. "Of course. Thank you, Chris. That would be wonderful."
Thomas turns his attention away once he hears Richard's footsteps leave the shop.
He drinks the rest of the tea and eats some toast from the plate.
Suddenly, a tray with a small cup, presumably for tea but unlike anything that Thomas has ever seen before, arrives at the edge of the stairs.
He makes a note to ask Chris about it later. Chris is nowhere to be seen when Thomas moves across the room to the tray, which surprises Thomas. He had expected Chris to at least poke his head up the stairs.
The cup contains a mixture with a soft yellow colour that is not off-putting and a spicy-sweet smell.
Thomas raises it to his lips and drinks slowly, taking note of its warmth but not burning heat.
It coats his throat gently, settling around his mouth and easing some of the strain in his throat brought on by illness. He sighs contentedly, climbing back under the covers of the bed and is back to sleep before he can even switch off the light on the table beside the bed.
…
It takes as much restraint as Chris thinks he possesses to avoid looking in on Thomas when he brings the tray and cup to the stairs. But if he surmises correctly, there is some walking around upstairs that can just barely be heard through the ceiling of the shop, meaning that Thomas is awake and presumably alright.
Richard will not thank Chris for going upstairs to Richard and Thomas's bedroom unless Chris is certain that there is a problem, such as a thud indicating that Thomas has fallen, or some similar noise.
So Chris focuses on the accounts, pulling a chair from the kitchen up to the counter in the front room of the shop so that he will be available if someone enters. It takes a large amount of willpower to keep him from thinking concernedly about Thomas, despite knowing that he has no claim to anything about Thomas.
…
About one hour later, Richard has still not returned, and Chris's willpower gives in. He cannot hear any movement upstairs, but he moves quietly nonetheless, not wanting to disturb Thomas if he is sleeping.
He climbs to the landing, reconsidering his position several times before giving in. When he reaches the corridor and the bedroom, he hears soft snoring and sniffling from within.
Asleep then. Chris thinks to himself.
Surely enough, Thomas is lying peacefully in the bed, his arms crossed over his body as he softly murmurs, "No, stop, go away" with no intention or apparent actual purpose of making anyone go away.
Chris crosses to the bed and gently places the back of his wrist against Thomas's forehead.
It is burning hot. Still feverish. Chris looks around for something that might temporarily reduce Thomas's fever.
He notices a washbowl in the corner and fills it with cool water, not cold as that will certainly wake Thomas, and retrieves a washcloth from below the sink.
He tries his hardest not to think about what purpose Thomas and Richard might usually put this washcloth to.
Instead, he dips the cloth into the basin and gently wipes it across Thomas's brow a few times.
Then he wets the cloth one more time and lays it across Thomas's forehead, hoping that it will reduce Thomas's temperature without giving him a chill.
He rinses the washbowl and returns it to his proper place before heading downstairs to resume the accounts, hoping absentmindedly - not maliciously so - that Thomas's illness is not catching, lest he infects Richard and Chris and everyone they meet.
The cats that practically own the place will not like it if I get stuck at home with a fever. Chris thinks, smirking to himself.
…
Why must so many people be ill? Richard thinks to himself as he waits in the front room of the hospital.
He has been informed that Dr Clarkson has gone out to help with the birth of a child whose mother may be showing signs of preeclampsia and possibly bring the mother back to the hospital to give birth.
Richard holds no malice against the woman or her child, especially given what Thomas has told him about his dear friend, Lady Sybil Crawley. He would not wish that kind of painful death on anyone.
But that aside, Thomas is ill and Richard would like the cause and solution deduced as soon as possible in order to reduce Thomas's suffering.
Richard had chosen to wait in the front room in hopes that he could perhaps shame or guilt the doctor into coming to Thomas quickly rather than the back of mind position that Thomas would have been relegated to if he left.
Richard is quickly realising that this is a fool's errand, since the doctor is certainly not making haste due to Richard's presence, and Thomas has been left alone with his illness because Richard is waiting here.
He contemplates leaving, but that will just make the whole situation worse, so he settles into the chair and thinks of Thomas, mildly reassured that Thomas is not alone and that Chris will be able to take action if something happens.
…
It is late in the day when Chris hears the faint sound of retching from upstairs. He leaves his chair and hurries up the stairs, concerned about Thomas.
He finds Thomas bent over the toilet, knees on the cold tiles and face flushed with the heat generated by illness and vomiting.
Thomas keeps struggling against his dressing gown, as though it is making him uncomfortable, so Chris leans forward and gently tugs it down his arms and moves it away.
Thomas instantly looks more comfortable, but he murmurs "Richard…." as he reaches his hand backwards absentmindedly, clearly expecting Richard.
He seems a bit delirious really, almost to the point of blurting out random secrets that Chris does not need to be privy to.
But at least his vomiting has ceased, so that is something to be grateful for.
"Thomas, you should go back to bed." Chris offers firmly, not wanting to leave room for disagreeing.
"Let me help you." He adds, gently lifting Thomas to his feet and all but carrying him to Thomas and Richard's bed.
Once Thomas looks comfortable, Chris decides to give him an aspirin and a sleeping pill to tide him over until Richard returns.
Thomas initially refuses the pills, stubbornly but with a vehemence that concerns Chris. It is none of his business, but he makes a note to tell Richard, in the interest of Thomas's safety.
He knows that many people are hesitant about taking capsules, but he makes a specific note because Thomas looks almost certainly frightened of the tablets.
…
Richard taps his fingers against his legs and is once again seriously considering leaving when a nurse - the one who had been making eyes at him some years previous when he came to care for Thomas (he knows Thomas thinks that he did not notice, but he did; he rarely lets things escape his notice unless ignoring them will merit some significant benefit) - comes rushing out of a clerical room.
"Dr Clarkson is available now." She breathes heavily, evidently having been rushed off her feet since morning by all the patients in the hospital.
Richard is simply glad that this distraction has prevented her from making eyes at him again. Not that he discourages it, but only for appearance purposes.
"Brilliant. Shall I lead him? Or has he already set off?" Richard tries his hardest to be calm, already struggling with the impatient twitching taking over his fingers.
"He has left, travelling to the address that you presented. Above the bookshop, if I remember correctly? With you? Rather kind of you to mind him" The nurse replies, furrowing her eyebrows very slightly.
Richard balks at how well she remembers, and wonders absently how she found out, as this is presumably not something that is part of her job at the hospital.
He twists his lips, choosing not to answer lest he provokes a more dangerous response.
"Right, well. I should be off. Thank you for your help." He replies quickly, setting off back towards the bookshop, anxious to get back but taking care not to express anything that might be construed as sarcasm.
She might take it as a slight, which it is not, particularly. Richard knows slights can result in endangerment of their relationship.
Richard thinks that any almighty power knows that neither himself nor Thomas can handle any more suspicion.
Pulling his gloves, coat, and hat on, Richard nods at the nurse, who smiles at him - quite a hopeful sign - and blushes slightly, as Richard leaves the clinic with the door swinging slightly behind himself.
….
The doctor observes Thomas. He proclaims it nothing more than a flu exacerbated by overexertion and exhaustion.
Richard hears himself breathe an audible sigh of relief and hears a similar noise from Chris as well, hoping that Clarkson will not notice.
"I have these tablets to kill the pathogens. I am only prescribing them because I think his body will not be able to fight the infection by itself, given his level of exhaustion. Please make sure he finishes the course, not stopping when he starts feeling better. The infection might return if he does that." Clarkson explains at length.
Richard is so concerned about Thomas that it does not occur to him until after Clarkson is in the doorway that he handed the pills to Richard, as if knowing the nature of their relationship.
He knows about Thomas, Thomas has told him that much when he spoke about Choose Your Own Path, but Clarkson has evidently assumed a bit more.
Richard has all the proof he needs when Clarkson subtly winks on his way out.
Note: This story will be changed to 'M' (for mentions of adult themes) when I post the second chapter next Tuesday, so it will not show up in the general section. Reviews are appreciated!
Also, this story - like many of my others - takes place in 51stcenturygirl's universe of works and there are several elements of those stories in mine. I highly recommend reading her Thomas/Richard stories if you like these.
*Because the metric system was made the standard in England close to 1961, I used the customary system of measuring temperature - Thomas's temperature is 38.3 degrees Celsius, considered a bit on the higher end of a low-grade fever. Also, their thermometer is placed in the mouth, since ear thermometers were not invented until a bit later.