Disc 4:
Sick
"Carlos?" Cecil walked into his boyfriend's house, closing the door quietly behind him. He'd came over as soon as he was off the air; during the day's weather, he received a text from Carlos:
when you're done, come here. need help.
After shaking his head at the seemingly smart scientist's lack of capitalization, a small amount of panic set in. He quickly sent a message back:
What's wrong? Are you okay? I can come now and have the intern cover for me.
It wasn't until a few anxious-filled minutes later that Cecil finally got an answer, during a pre-recorded public service announcement about the new laws regarding the current restrictions on writing utensils.
not dying or anything. just come when you can. xo
So Cecil had stopped his worrying (well, almost) and drove somewhat calmly over the Carlos' house/lab.
The broadcaster didn't receive a verbal response; what he did hear was a creaking from above him, where the attic doubled as Carlos' bedroom.
Taking two stairs at a time, Cecil quickly climbed into the other's room. "Oh, dear," he sighed, taking in the sight.
Carlos, who was rarely cold, lay bundled in a huddle of heavy blankets and afghans. His black curls were full of knots and damp with sweat. The scientist's normal, golden pallor had faded into a sickly, deathly, gray tan. He opened his eyes at Cecil's voice and mustered a smile. "Oh. Hi, darling," he greeted him, his voice hoarse and stuffy.
"Oh, dear," Cecil repeated, quickly perching next to the other on the bed. "I thought you told me you weren't dying."
"I'm not," The scientist tried to laugh, but ended up coughing instead. "It's just the flu, I think," he yawned, turning his head towards his boyfriend and gazing up at him, overly happy to see him in his deteriorated state. "I haven't been up to swabbing for samples, though."
"The flu, hm?" Cecil said, as if he knew what Carlos was talking about. He laid his palm on the other's forehead and instantly recoiled. "How are you cold? Your face is on fire."
"Yeah, my fever's pretty bad. But it's down to one - " Carlos narrowed his eyes weakly, studying Cecil's face. "You don't know what a fever is, do you?"
"No, I know. Really, I do," The announcer ran his hand through Carlos' horrible bedhead. "It's just that I've never been, you know... sick before."
"You're twenty-nine years old and you've never been sick."
Cecil shook his head. "Not once."
One of the scientist hands emerged from his flu cocoon. "You, sir," he lightly poked Cecil's nose, "are one spectacular specimen."
"And you," Cecil took Carlos' hand and tucked it back under his blankets. "You're disgusting. No offense." Although he'd never admit it, the radio personality was a bit of a germaphobe.
"Well, yeah," Carlos pushed out a sarcastic chuckle. "Vomit, lack of proper nutrition, constant sweat, a peak temp of one-oh-three, and a home made out of old covers will do that to you."
"Okay. Stop. Stop talking, Carlos," Cecil shuddered. "That's... ew."
"Mmhm. 'Cause you'd be the first to know," The researcher rolled his eyes. "Now, listen. I need you to get some stuff for me..."
An hour or two later, Cecil had Carlos all fixed up. He'd brought him ginger ale (also, a bucket - in case Carlos needed to throw up that ginger ale). He'd dug out some medicine that Carlos had stored away amid boxes in a closet (Cecil was positive that the man was a hoarder). He'd carried various pieces of equipment up from Carlos' lab ("In case I get bored," he had told Cecil). He'd picked tissues and papers off of the bedroom floor, made Carlos dry toast (which he promptly regurgitated - thank the Glow Cloud for that damn bucket), brought him cherry cough drops, even helped him change into different pajamas.
Cecil was currently resting with his scientist. They were both under two blankets (Cecil was dying of heat; Carlos was still shivering) and Carlos lie cuddled half on top of Cecil, which was out of the ordinary for the two. Cecil didn't mind, though, and wrapped his arms protectively around his boyfriend, wishing he had the power to get rid of his virus.
Carlos nestled his face into the side of Cecil's neck, the radio personality's blonde hair and creamy skin warm and helping to ease the worst of the fever.
"You might want to move," The scientist spoke into the other's tattoo-covered neck. "I'm going to fall asleep."
Cecil shook his head. "No. I'll stay with you." He craned his neck to give his sickly Carlos a kiss, pushing the germ-fearing part of him to the back of his mind. "Sleep and feel better."
The two of them fell asleep and slept straight through the night, just until after sunrise.
"Carlos. Carlos," Cecil gently shook the scientist. "Carlos. Get up."
"Hm?" Carlos drowsily awoke, smiling to see Cecil "Hey. Good - "
"You have cast me into the pits of hell," Cecil spat, stirring up a coughing fit.
Carlos grinned and angled himself over his boyfriend, feeling much better since the previous day. "Not so healthy now, are you?" He joked, moving in to give Cecil a proper morning greeting.
"You're the DEVIL!"
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