"Would you please just try to eat something?" Audrey practically begged, holding the spoon up to Duke's face like a parent trying to feed an unruly toddler.

"I'll eat food," Duke clarified. "And food, that is not." He was eyeing the contents of the spoon and the bowl in Audrey's other hand dubiously. Three days into his stay at the hospital, they'd only just started to allow him semi-solid foods. Jell-O, ginger ale, and chicken soup which was what he was presently refusing to eat. Audrey had been sitting with him for the past half hour trying to get him to eat it.

"I'm gonna tell Nathan when he gets back that you weren't being a good patient," she threatened. Nathan had gone home to shower and change about an hour ago, so she imagined he would be getting back soon.

Duke smiled a strained smile and leaned back on his propped-up bed. "You do that," he said. "I'll tell him you tried to poison me."

"Afraid I'm gonna have to side with Audrey on this one." Both Audrey and Duke turned to see Nathan standing in the doorway, freshly showered, shaved, and clothed in some jeans and a gray t-shirt.

Audrey smiled and dropped the spoon back into the Styrofoam cup, handing it to Nathan as he approached. "He's all yours," she said. "Unlike some of us, I actually have to go to work today."

"I don't need a babysitter, you know," Duke said.

Nathan just ignored him, sliding onto the bed beside Duke and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "'Course you don't. You just need someone to feed you, wash you, and appease you when you get fussy. That doesn't sound like a babysitter at all."

Duke scowled. "You're funny."

"It's part of my charm," Nathan replied. "And speaking of charm, what's with all the trouble you're giving Officer Parker? I thought you'd be happy to finally get to eat."

"I'm not eating that," Duke insisted. "My stomach hurts enough as it is, thanks." Even though it was meant as a quip, Nathan could tell there was a grain of sincerity in the complaint. He'd definitely improved since the first day, but he was still in bad shape. They'd started to lower his dosage on his pain medicine, too; honestly, Nathan could understand why he might be a little bit cranky.

All the same, it was important that Duke start to eat. If he didn't, they'd have to keep him on IV fluids, and, if he persisted in his boycott, they'd have to do a feeding tube. Nathan had half a mind to tell him that, but threats weren't really a personal favorite for Nathan. He'd rather just convince him to cooperate, instead of scaring him into it.

"Come on, babe, it's not that bad. It's just what a growing boy needs."

Duke arched an eyebrow – the one that wasn't nestled beneath a patch of bruise and steri-strips – and scowled disdainfully. "You can see the grease in it," he grumbled.

"And since you got here, you've been losing weight that you didn't have to begin with," Audrey cut in. "I don't think you have to sweat the saturated fats."

Her intervention got Audrey a flash of Duke's glare, before it settled back on his true enemy: the Styrofoam bowl still in Nathan's hand.

"Well, I have to get to work. You two boys be good," Audrey said, and started for the door.

Duke waved at her with his good hand. "Yes, Mom."

Once she was gone, Nathan turned his attention back to Duke. "All right, Duke, let's get this over with." He dipped the plastic spoon into the soup and raised it to Duke's face. "Open up."

Duke pursed his lips.

"I swear to you, Duke, I am not above feeding you like a two-year-old."

Duke stared at him levelly.

"Is this the part where I start making train noises?"

A hint of a smile.

Nathan just sighed. "Please, Duke. You don't have to eat the whole thing, just humor me and take a few bites?" He held up the spoon again.

"I just want to sleep," Duke mumbled, sinking down on the bed like he was trying to disappear into the sheets.

"You can sleep as long as you want," Nathan began, "after you eat something."

Duke's lips fell into a frown and he half-laughed, half-cried. "I don't want to eat something. I don't want to eat anything! Not their fucking chicken soup, or their Jell-O, or the damn ice chips they keep trying to shove down my throat! I—" The yelling seemed to get the best of him, and a round of coughs broke forth, rattling his bruised chest. Nathan sat the soup down on the bed tray and helped Duke lean forward, rubbing his back.

"Catch your breath, babe."

After a moment, Duke did. If possible, he deflated even more, looking ever more pitiful by the second. "I just want to go home," he finished softer.

And thus, they arrived at the center of this particular little dispute. Duke was tired of being at the hospital. He was tired and hurting and just generally fed up. Like Nathan had said before: he didn't blame him for it.

"I'll take you home soon, babe. Once the doctors clear you, I'll wheel you out myself if you want. But you've got to get better before we can go, and if you want to get better, you've got to get your strength back. You can't get better on a saline drip alone, so just open up for me, okay?"

This time, when Nathan held the spoon up to his lips, albeit with no small amount of hesitation, Duke did open his mouth. As soon as Nathan pulled the now-clean spoon back, Duke grimaced.

"God, what did I just eat?" he groaned. "Salty grease. I just ate salty grease."

Nathan smiled and made a show of swirling the spoon around the cup. "I think I see some vegetables in here, too," he said, and held up another spoonful of soup which his boyfriend begrudgingly swallowed. Nathan smiled. "There, see? Is that so bad?"

Duke's lip curled. "It's cruel and unusual," he scowled, but accepted another spoonful nonetheless. "I should press charges."

"Sorry, Duke. I think I heard the police chief was off duty," he chuckled. "Something about a bedridden boyfriend with a finicky palate…."

"I assure you I have no idea…" Another spoonful. "…what you're talking about. God, this stuff is terrible."

"Well, you're about halfway through. Think you can stomach a few more spoonfuls?"

"I'd rather not."

Nathan chuckled. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against Duke's. "Just three more, babe, then I'll leave you alone."

Duke watched him for a moment, but finally let out a longsuffering sigh that Nathan took to be a concession. Nathan held him to that, tipping three more spoonfuls of the soup into his mouth before setting the bowl aside on the table.

When he reached into the cup of ice chips, Duke fixed him with a glare. "I thought you'd said you'd leave me alone," he said.

Slipping the ice chip between Duke's lips, Nathan smiled unapologetically. "I lied."

For that, he got an eye roll from his boyfriend. Duke didn't say anything, though, instead leaning back against Nathan's chest.

"Tired?" Nathan asked as his boyfriend settled in against him. He was careful not to move too much, but he also helped Duke get situated. His sides, namely the one with the gash, were still giving him trouble. His leg had recently become a little bit of an issue, too, now that Duke was getting more and more restless.

Mercifully, this move went smoothly, and soon, Duke was lying back against Nathan's chest, his head resting in the crook of Nathan's shoulder. "Feels like I'm dying of old age again," Duke said suddenly, his voice slow and soft. His eyes were already closed.

"Why's that?" Nathan asked. Part of him was worried, and the other part was curious. He hoped Duke didn't feel like he was dying, though with wounds like that, he would understand if he did.

Duke let out a little yawn and gave a one-sided shrug. "Tired old man," he muttered. "Always want to nap."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," Nathan said, brushing a hand through his boyfriend's thick black locks. They were soft again now, and clean thanks to a sort of semi-bath he'd given him yesterday. It had been a little difficult, trying to wash Duke's hair in a basin (though he personally hadn't minded the sponge bath) but Duke had felt a lot better afterwards. For someone that spent a good quarter of his life covered in sea water and engine grease, Duke sure did have an affinity for being clean.

"'S annoying," Duke said.

Nathan craned his neck to look at him, curious. "How so?"

Duke gave another little one-sided shrug, this one a lot less noticeable than the last. "You finally take off work," he started. "Y' never do that. You finally do, and all I want to do is sleep. 'S not fair."

"Ah…" Nathan chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Well, what if I promise to take some days off after you're better, too?"

"You can do that?"

"Being the police chief does have its advantages."

That got a chuckle out of Duke. "Look at you, abusing your power. I've corrupted you."

"That's what I keep telling you. You're a bad influence." He smiled and stole another kiss before adjusting Duke's covers. He was normally a cold-blooded guy – thus the innumerable cardigans – and being sick had only intensified the condition. Nathan always made sure he was well covered, because the scrub pants and robe (folded over a generous wrapping of bandages) did little to keep him warm. "So, it's a date. Now why don't you get some sleep."

Duke craned his neck, looking up at Nathan with half-lidded eyes and a smile. "Promise you'll still be here when I wake up?"

"I'm not going anywhere."