It was far too early Monday morning to be awake. Nick was in his car, the seat leaned back as far as it would go, trying to get some sleep before lecture that morning. He'd been woken up around four by the worst flu he'd ever had and couldn't get back to sleep, and he was miserable.

He felt awful. His head pounded with every beat of his heart, which was racing along at a thousand beats a minute. The whole right side of his head wanted him dead, the lymph node massive and sore, ear throbbing, that side of his throat raw. His muscles ached like he's run a marathon. He leaned back farther in the seat, wishing for sleep.

His phone lit up with a text from his boyfriend, Jeff.

J: [Good morning]

Nick smiled and texted back.

N: [Good morning. How are you?]

J: [Need more sleep. You?]

N: [Same. Feeling a bit under the weather]

J: [Aw, that's no fun. At least you only have half a day of classes, then you can go home and take a nap]

N: [At least]

J: [Good luck, I love you]

N: [Love you]

And with that, it was time to head into lecture. Nick checked that he had everything he needed, grabbed his bag, and went inside. His usual seat was empty, thank goodness, and he dropped into it, feeling worse than ever.

"You look awful, Nick," Blaine, his partner, said. "You'd better not get me sick."

Nick grinned. "I won't, promise."

"You don't think you should see a doctor or something? Get some medicine?"

His stomach dropped, but he kept the smile firmly in place. "Nah, I'm good. It's just a 24-hour thing anyway."

As if he'd ever set foot in an office like that.

Blaine shrugged. "Whatever, man. Don't get your plague on me, I can't afford to see a doctor anyway."

Throughout the lecture, Nick was hardly paying attention, too distracted by his mental manta of "don't puke don't puke don't puke don't puke". No one seemed to notice. Safe for now.

Nick had gotten sick Saturday night, and it didn't seem to be letting up anytime soon. He pulled on his second hoodie in his car, turned the heat all the way up, and tried to get his foggy brain together to drive across campus to his next class. When he pulled in, he had to lean his seat back again, lightheaded.

His phone buzzed with another text from Jeff.

J: [One more class, you got this!]

Nick smiled to himself. He got his bag, wrapped a scarf around his neck, and followed the stream of students into the lab. The same scenario repeated itself, his partner - Kurt this time - mentioning the fact that he looked like death, Nick almost passing out, and trying not to puke most of the class. He had to leave his scarf and long cardigan outside the room, since he was in a chemistry lab and that was hardly safe, so he shivered and put his head down, falling asleep.

Kurt woke him up when class was over, nothing but sympathy on his face.

"There was nothing you don't already know in the lecture, and you looked like you needed the sleep. Sorry to wake you up,"

Back in his car, Nick's phone buzzed.

J: [Want me to come over? We can study for the quiz tomorrow]

N: [Thanks, but I think I'm going to take a nap]

J: [Okay. Let me know if you need anything]

N: [I will, thanks. Love you]

J: [Love you too. Sleep well]

He sat in the car, leaned back again, for far too long, mentally preparing to drive again, home this time. It was a lot farther. He thought about calling Jeff, then decided against it. Jeff would take one look at him and drag him to the hospital.

Sitting up, he mustered every bit of strength and willpower, and managed to make it home safely. He grabbed his heated blanket and a fresh box of tissues, threw out the ones stuffed in his pockets, and turned up the heat in the apartment, then got into bed.

Later that day, Jeff let himself into Nick's apartment, slipping his key back into his backpack. All the lights were off.

"Nick?" he called.

No answer.

Jeff poked his head into Nick's bedroom. He was asleep, his face flushed, blankets pulled up to his nose. Balled-up tissues filled the trash can and spilled out, and covered his bed. Jeff shook his shoulder.

"Nick?"

He didn't stir. When he shook him harder, he groaned, his throat full of phlegm.

"Hey, babe. You don't look so good,"

"Don't feel good,"

Jeff laid the back of his hand on Nick's forehead. "You could fry bacon on your forehead, that's not healthy."

"Cold,"

"Get out of those blankets, you're burning up," Jeff tried to pull the blankets off, but Nick clung to them and groaned, and even though Nick was weak, Jeff couldn't bring himself to rob Nick of that simple comfort.

"Come on, Nick, sit up. Cough a couple times. Have you eaten anything today?"

"Not hungry,"

"Come on, up," Jeff wrapped an arm around the back of his neck and sat him up. His head fell back.

"That's it, Nicky,"

Jeff moved the blanket down, tucking it around Nick's waist. His clothes and sheets were soaked through with sweat, his hair matted and damp, cheeks bright red.

"Aw, bud. Let's get you changed,"

Nick groaned.

"Change into something dry, I'll make you something to eat,"

Nick sighed heavily and started to stand. When he was on his feet, he swayed once, twice, then fell forward into Jeff's arms. Jeff lowered him back to the bed.

"Oh, Nick, you're a tragedy,"

"Dizzy,"

Jeff grabbed a clean set of pajamas and helped Nick change quickly. When he was in dry clothes, Jeff squeezed his shoulder. "Let's get you to the couch, yeah?"

Nick stood again, leaning heavily on Jeff. Together, they made it to the couch, and Jeff pulled a thick blanket over Nick's shivering form, tucking it around his shoulders.

"I'm going to get you something to eat. Do you have a thermometer?"

"In the bathroom,"

"Do you feel better or worse than when you went to class?"

Nick pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "The same." They both knew it was a lie, but Jeff squeezed his shoulder anyway and left to find a thermometer.

When he came back, thermometer in hand, Nick had the blanket over his head. Jeff patted his side. "Let me see that face, I want your temperature."

Nick groaned and moved the blanket. Jeff turned Nick's head so he could reach his ear, Nick only protesting a little, and put in the thermometer.

"103.6. Not great, Nicky. You sure you don't feel worse?"

"Feel worse," Nick pulled the blanket back over his head.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

"Only if you don't make me go to the doctor,"

Jeff hesitated. With a fever that high . . . "Okay. I won't make you go today, but I'll check again tomorrow morning, and we can stay home unless your fever gets above 105. Deal?"

Nick swallowed, considering what he had to lose. "Deal."