Sick
Disclaimer: I own no one!
A/N-It's amazing what a spring cold and being up at four in the morning can do for your writer's block!
This is a sequel to 'Lucky in Love'
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Randy Orton curled into the fetal position as he struggled to sleep.
His head pounded. He sniffled in an effort to cure his clogged sinuses. Nothing helped.
"Just a small sip," his boyfriend, Chris Irvine murmured, holding a small glass of ginger ale to his lips. The young man wasn't taking much fluid and every sip counted.
"No," Randy moaned, turning his head away. Chris moved the glass to face his lover's mouth.
"One sip, Dear. We don't want you getting dehydrated." Chris said, as if speaking to a four-year-old. He knew a healthy Randy hated to be babied, but with his cold, Chris also knew that babying was the best thing for Randy.
Reluctantly, Randy took a small sip. Relieved, Chris set the glass on the side table. At least, he had sipped SOMETHING.
Dimming the lights, Chris moved into the living room.
Randy needed to sleep. That was the best thing.
Randy slept peacefully for about an hour. Then, he began to bark as cough after cough wracked his aching body.
Chris was right there, ready to help in any way he could. In his fevered state, Randy was sure he was an angel, sent from Heaven.
"Put your arm around my shoulder," Chris instructed, struggling to hoist the young man out of bed. Growing frustrated, he finally hoisted Randy to his feet.
Randy stumbled, in an effort to regain his balance. Chris kept a tighter grip, worried his boyfriend would fall and crack his skull open.Leading the young man, Chris took him into the bathroom.
Depositing Randy on the toilet, Chris shut the door. Then, he turned the faucet in the bathtub to its hottest setting.
Soon, steam filled the bathroom. It grew warm and humid. Chris soon grew uncomfortable but he stayed.
For Randy.
As for the young man, his sinuses finally unclogged. His breathing grew easier and easier.
Cold chills wracked his body. Shivering, he groaned. Chris, sensing a problem, placed his hand lovingly on the young man's forehead.
The young man was burning up.
"Babe, we'll get through this," Chris murmured, leading Randy back into the bedroom. He helped the young man back in bed. Then he climbed in, beside him. Gently, he held the young man, trying to take the chills away.
"Don't," Randy moaned. "You'll get sick." Chris shook his head.
"I don't get sick. I get... injured," he said. Randy chuckled weakly.
Soon, the chills went away. Randy swore it was Chris' loving touch that helped take the pain away.
Randy awoke and began to gag. Chris held the wastebasket under his mouth. As the young man purged, Chris was right there, rubbing his back and making everything better.
"I don't feel well," Randy moaned. Rubbing his back, Chris nodded.
"I know, Baby, I know," he said.
If Randy had had any doubts about Chris' love, it was long gone. After all, anyone who would help a sick person SO much had to be committed.
Commitment was a sign of love.
