A.N. - I bet no one even remembers my name by now, but hello! This is delico, and I come bearing a fic I wrote months ago, for which I came up with a decentending just now.

This was so infinitely better in my head. I wish someone better than me at writing would write down my thoughts - because I assure you, my plan for this was so much better.

Soup

For - Inyx, for helping me feel better when I was really sick and practically clogging up the sewage system with puke (again, this was months ago). And I swear, I did not copy your fic title, I had it before I read yours!

Mr Tall was sick.

Evra was worried sick.

Oh, no, this was by no means normal. Mr Tall - sick? All the cirque members said that they had never seen Mr Tall become sick before. This was a first. Therefore this was bad. This must be bad. What if he was dying?

And so naturally, Evra was worried sick. Actually, close to hyperventilating.

So there he was, in the middle of the night, at a place he shouldn't really be, biting his lip, eyes dead serious as he stirred the bubbling pot with a wooden spoon. So far, all it was was boiling water - and, as much as he did not want to admit it, Evra had no idea what to do next.

Okay, so he had never made soup. He had cooked some pasta and sauce last night for the cirque, but that was under the close supervision of Truska, and even so he had burnt it and no one wanted to eat any of it.

'Watch the pot, okay?'

The snakeboy whispered to his snake as he lowered her down onto the table near the pot. She hissed lightly, sliding closer to the warmness. He ran towards the cupboard, opened it, grabbed whatever there was, and headed back to the pot, dumping the to-be-ingredients on the table as his snake curled around his shoulders again.

'What should I have. . . What's in a soup, do you think?'

He whispered, stroking his snake - she just hissed sleepily in reply. He sighed.

Once, when Evra was sick, Truska had made him chicken soup. Hot, creamy chicken soup that made him huff and slurp and feel warm all over. He wanted to make something like that - something that would make Mr Tall happy and warm and better. Better.

Tears filled his eyes. He couldn't bear the thought of Mr Tall being sick - what if it was something serious? Some incurable disease? He glared at the pot, and without really looking, threw all the ingredients into it. It was dark so he couldn't quite see exactly what he put in it, but there seemed to be. . . . some vegetables, garlic and chilli, some left over pizzas, noodles, a sock, and random things that looked curiously like cutlery.

Oh well, Evra thought, salt ought to make things better. So he added salt. And then he added more salt. And then his hands slipped and he dropped the whole packet inside. Oops. Sugar ought to make things better, he thought, and added sugar. And then he added more sugar. And so it continued, until he had raided the kitchen's cupboards completely, and had added all edible (and inedible) things into the stew-like-concoction-soup-slop-thingy.

It is said that that night, an indescribably grotesque stench filled the cirque camp's kitchen, nauseating even Rhamus and the Wolfman.

Okay, the soup was done. Evra grinned broadly, holding the cauldron full of sloppy unnaturally-coloured and odoured liquid, that he liked to think was soup.

Now all he had to do is sneak into Mr Tall's van without Truska or Mr Crepsley finding out and dragging him to bed.

The mere thought of seeing Mr Tall, making him smile, put a grin on Evra's face and a dance in his step.

He reached the cirque master's van door - no one around, all clear - he hugged his snake closer, "shhhh"ed to her, and slipped into the van.

The light in the bedroom was on. Evra sneaked up to the door and peeked inside, hearing voices escaping from the slightly open door.

'HIbernius, you need the sleep, now stop being foolish and go to bed.'

'Larten, I need to. . .'

'To bed, Hibernius. Has it not occurred to you yet that you are sick?'

'But. . .'

'Truska and I will manage the cirque for a few days, we can resume the shows when you get better. No need to stress, all you need to do is to get better - so sleep.'

'But Larten, what about --' Mr Tall choked, went blue, and clapped his hand over his mouth. Mr Crepsley sighed, stroking the sick man's back.

'There, there. Shoosh and sleep, you have nothing in your stomach by now to get rid of. If you are worrying about the snakeboy, Truska is taking good care of him. He misses you, you need not see him to know that. Now--' Mr Crepsley lay the man down, tucked the blankets in around him, and landed a soft kiss on the man's cheek.

'Just call me by empath if you need anything - I'll be here in a flit.'

'I will,' Mr Tall laughed, his paler-than-usual lips curling into a loving smile. Mr Crepsley stood up, grabbed his cloak, and turned around once more to face Mr Tall.

'Goodnight, and sleep well.'

'Night, Larten. . .'

Mr Tall croaked with a weak smile, as he watched the vampire leave the room. Evra gasped and hid himself behind the sofa just in time to avoid being seen. He froze and stayed silent with baited breath until he was sure the vampire was well outside of the van. When he was sure, he stood up and ran to the bedroom door, opening it with an enormous smile on his face.

'Mr Taaaaall!'

'Evra?'

Mr Tall blinked, mouth half open in a stupefied "o" - an expression so rare that Evra wished absentmindedly for Cormac's camera. He came to himself, and, holding the towel-covered soup cauldron, trotted forwards and jumped onto Mr Tall's lap. Mr Tall groaned slightly, as Evra cocked his head sideways.

'Are you okay, Mr Tall?'

'Yes, yes, I am. . .fine, Evra.'

'Sure?'

'I am sure. I was just a little tired, that is all.'

'Are you cold?'

'. . . A little.'

Mr Tall smiled wryly, tangling his slender fingers in Evra's fringe. Evra leaned into the affection, pushing against the cirque master's chest. Evra's snake hissed urgently, curling around his waist and pointing her tongue at the soup. Evra blinked.

'Ooh!'

'Hm?' Mr Tall blinked also, now both his hands lost in Evra's silky grass-green hair.

'The soup!'

'. . . . . ? Soup, Evra?'

Evra nodded, grinning proudly, 'I made you soup!'

An expression quite unreadably complicated appeared on Mr Tall's face, as Evra carried the cauldron onto the bedside table and opened the lid. A green. . .kind of. . . slop. . . . with stuff. . . sticking out of it. . . and things that looked like . . . noodles and pizza crusts. . . . and a fork standing up in the middle. . . . . stared back at him, making him cringe but not quite - as to not make Evra sad.

'That is. . . .so lovely of you, Evra.'

Mr Tall forced a smile, the malodour of the "soup" (if that is indeed what it is) inducing tears and making him cough violently. A glowing Evra scooped some of the "slop" onto a plate, stabbed a spoon in, and held some up to the man's mouth. Mr Tall looked at it resignedly. This was definitely going to be his death. There was no escape, the spoon was getting close, closer, and. . . .

Creak.

'Hibernius, I brought you some honey lemon, it works good for throat, I. . . .EVRA VON!'

Truska dropped the jug of honey-lemon tea, spilling the contents over the wooden floor.

"You naughty, naughty boy! I told you go bed HOURS ago!"

She scowled, making Evra leap to his feet, grab his snake and curl up into a small ball against the wall. Truska grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the room, and out of the van altogether.

'Truskaaaaaaaaaaaa,' the snakeboy whined, clinging onto the slender woman's sleeve, 'why can't I stay?'

'Because,' she sighed, quietly closing the van door behind her, 'he's trying get some rest, and you - you are jumpy little annoyance, you just make him more tired, therefore more sick.'

'But but but Truskaaaaa!'

'NO,' she said firmly, hushing the snakeboy with a finger on his lips, 'that is end of it. Go to your van and sleep, Hibernius need the rest.'

Evra grumbled, biting his lip and moodily pulling at the snake resting on his shoulders. She hissed a subtle warning, looking equally grumpy.

'Answer?' Truska raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips.

'Yes, Truska,' Evra grumbled, pouting and glaring at the ground. Truska span around, sending one last warning glance to the snakeboy, then went back into Mr Tall's van.

'I swear, Hibernius, if I were one second late you would have been dead.'

Truska said in her own language and chuckled, leaning over the bed to wipe the soup that Evra had spilt on the blanket earlier. Mr Tall sniffled, sighing as he leaned into his piled up pillows.

'He doesn't mean any harm, Truska.'

'Of course he doesn't, you know how much he cares for you.'

'. . . . . . . . I. . .'

'I'm just saying - you should be careful how much care you put in to him.'

'Truska. . . . Let's not start this, I . . .'

'Alright, I won't - you're sick, after all.' She sighed, re-tucking the pale cirque master into his blankets, 'but you had better watch out for his cooking - that boy - it's not a matter of "not good at cooking", it's lethal, Hibernius.'

'Just don't let him near the kitchen, then.' Mr Tall laughed, quickly turning blue again and gagging.

'Have you even told him, Hibernius,' Truska huffed, putting her hands on her hips, 'that you're sick because you're the only one who ate his cooking from last night?'

'No, and I never intend to.'

Hibernius mumbled, closing his eyes and smiling weakly - Truska rolled her eyes, pulling the blankets over him.

'You will be a total idiot if you die from this.'

'You know perfectly well I don't mind being a total idiot for that boy, neither do I mind dying to make him happy. He deserves no less.'

'And you deserve no better.'

Truska smiled, planted a kiss on the cirque master's forehead, and left the van to put the snakeboy to sleep.

A.N. (contd) - I AM writing ToL and Dangerous Game and Unexpected, I am! Don't kill me, please, I'm just really really really busy.

Reviews and coffee keep me going - so keep them coming, please :D