I’m poorly so I’m taking out my having a cold in some h/c Patater fic.
Alexei generally makes himself scarce when he’s visiting Kent in Vegas if the Aces are still in the running. Kent has a bad habit of feeling guilty and being distracted if he thinks Alexei is home alone, so the other man generally amuses himself by taking Kent’s car and visiting the strip, or other pointless tourist attractions. It’s how he’s seen Love and Zumanity eighteen times.
There’s a game that night, so Alexei doesn’t expect to see Kent until well after midnight, exhausted, moody–whether or not they’ve won–and good for little more than a quick kiss before passing out.
Playing hockey himself, Alexei knows better than anyone.
So it’s a massive surprise, shocking Alexei back a few steps, when he walks into Kent’s apartment to find Kent face down on the sofa, a heavy duvet burritoed around him.
For a second, Alexei thinks he might actually be dead or something, but Kit strolls over to Kent’s prone body and gives his ear a lick. Kent groans, his hand absently appearing from the blanket cocoon to shoo the cat off.
“mfhpfahd,” is what Kent says. Or at least, that’s how Alexei processes it.
He realises something’s very wrong, so he walks over and kneels down, pushing his fingers into Kent’s thrashed hair. “What happen, Kenny?”
Kent picks up his head with what looks like extreme effort. His eyes are half-lidded, red-rimmed, and his nose looks raw. “Sent me home.”
I think loads of us are poorly right now. I am. My SO gave me his disgusting cold and I just…….anyway this is a sequel to sick!Bitty and Jack who is trying to avoid catching it.
Bitty sighs at Jack’s scowl, only his eyes and nose poking out from the heavy duvet. He feels a little guilty, but only because he hates seeing Jack suffering. It wasn’t his fault the kid at the market sneezed in his face and infected him with the cold–and both he and Jack had done everything to prevent Jack from coming down.
But it was a bad one. Infecty and gross and contagious. Jack made it through the string of away games, and came home with a red nose, sleepy eyes, and a huge frown.
“Oh dear,” Bitty had said as Jack shuffled past him–no hug–and disrobed in the bedroom.
He’d put on his old Habs t-shirt and gym shorts with paint stains which was a sure sign he was poorly.
Bitty quickly set off to make tea and soup.
Now, stood at the end of the bed, he squares his shoulders against Jack’s accusing glower. “Now now, it’s not like I did it on purpose, sweetheart.”
Jack merely sniffs in response.
When its’ clear that’s all he’s getting, Bitty slides into the bed, props the tray across Jack’s thighs, and holds on to it as Jack eases himself up into a sitting position.
“This’ll help. And it’s being hand delivered which is even better than tea by Roomba.”
At that, the corners of Jack’s mouth twitches. “I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Maybe, if you outlive me. But I’m younger’n you, mister, so…”
Jack stares, then laughs, which turns into a wheeze, which turns into a cough and his glower is back, but it’s a bit softer than before. “I feel disgusting.”
“I know, baby,” Bitty says. He nuzzles against Jack’s side as Jack starts with the soup, then onto the tea. He only manages a third of each before the tray is shoved onto the bedside table, and he puts an arm round Bitty.
“I’m surprised you’re not paying me back for you know…avoiding you,” Jack says, and it’s obvious he’s trying to make it sound like a chirp, but he fails. His sickness is making his insecurity flare up to the surface, and Bitty holds him tighter.
“Sweetpea, I know why you couldn’t cuddle me, and honestly I was fine. Really. I really am sorry you caught this. It’s terrible.”
“I feel terrible,” Jack admits. He holds on just a little tighter, like he thinks maybe Bitty will change his mind and deny him the cuddles he wants so badly. Bitty doesn’t pull away. He manoeuvres them under the covers, tucking them tight round Jack’s aching body, and kisses his temple.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”
Jack smiles. The soup and tea warm him, and the meds he swallowed half an hour before are starting to work. A fog settles over and his eyes close. The last thing he’s aware of is Bitty’s soft breath against his neck, and firm arm round his middle. He still feels gross, but he no longer feels alone.
My husband and I are strange and both really like Dodie Clark a lot so we covered one of our favorites songs by her. PLS NO JUDGE US OH YAH OUR BIRD KOVU IS BEING A BUTT SO YAH SORRY NOT SORRY jK IM acuTCALLY sORRy.