Stephen Cornfoot (stephen_c) wrote in our_playground, @ 2008-04-03 18:20:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | adrian, stephen |
RP: I'd take a hangover to this any day.
Date: 5th March, 2005
Characters: Stephen and Adrian
Location: Hogwarts
Private/Public: Private
Rating:
Warnings:
Summary: The boys are sick and Adrian doesn't like it one bit.
Adrian hadn't been feeling at all well and neither had Stephen... In fact nobody had been feeling all that hot as of late. He'd thought it was something they'd picked up in the Caribbean at first but after Malfoy's warning, he'd wondered if it wasn't this plan of Rodolphus's that had them feeling like crap. It had been working up steadily for a week and so far there was no relief; he'd spent all of yesterday in bed after swooning - and not like a bloody woman - just before he'd been about to fly into work. Now the spots on his back were bleeding and his vision was blurred. His joints felt too stiff to use and every time he did, it made him want to vomit.
All in all, he wasn't feeling like a bundle of joy. He fucking hated being sick.
"Stephen?" he asked, shaking his head and turning it to regard his husband who looked about as bad as he felt. He was more worried about him than himself, hating to see him ill and knowing he was too sick himself to do anything about it. "Feeling any better? Only you look like absolute crap."
Stephen stopped himself from snapping at Adrian. There were only so many ways (or times) that you could answer that question, and Adrian had passed that quota about two days ago. "I'm much better, baby. I know the fever scared you, but it was two days ago and it's gone down, and while these spots look horrible, I'm not feeling that bad."
He stood up and walked to where Adrian was standing. "You, on the other hand, look like you're about to pass out on me. Come on, sit down, and rest." He winced when he saw he saw the blood stains on Adrian's back. Thank God, he hadn't been so bad, or Adrian might have had a heart attack watching him. "Let me clean you up first, okay?" He took his wand out, and cast a cleansing spell, knowing that it was only a palliative.
Adrian knew he was being a pain in the arse, could tell by the slightly pinched look Stephen kept getting every time he quizzed him. He couldn't help it though; he just worried a lot. "Damn right it scared me," he muttered under his breath, looking at him once more before looking out of the window and sighing.
He really hated being sick.
"I'm fine," he said stubbornly, holding onto the windowsill. He did look over at his back, grimacing at the spots with blood and pus in them. God, this was so fucking vile. "I look like a leper. Fucking hell, where's Floot? Has Malfoy not come up with a potion yet?"
"And I'm fine. It was only a fever and the spots are going away already," Stephen reassured him. Again. It was ridiculous, but if saying it over and over again would make Adrian feel a little better than it was worth it.
"Of course you're fine," he said, knowing that humouring Adrian was easier than fighting him. "Why don't we both go and be fine on the couch? I can work on the missed lessons, and you can keep me company. Hell, you can make sure that I'm fine."
He kissed his husband gently. "You look just fine. These things will go away soon and you'll be just as gorgeous as always. Now, let's sit down, please." He didn't mention that if Draco had found a cure, there would no way to contain his gloating.
"You are so not working," Adrian said, eyeing the work Stephen had to do with dislike. He finally gave up standing at the windowsill - it hurt to do it anyway - and lay on the couch on his front so his spots wouldn't rub against anything. It fucking hurt, everything did, and the headache he had was making him feel sick. Lying down didn't seem to be helping at all.
"I don't look fine, I look diseased and these better not scar... I won't be half as gorgeous with fucking... pox marks on my back," he complained. "I feel sick again... I'm glad you feel a bit better though. You had me worried, baby."
"Fine, I'm not working." Stephen didn't think that it would make a difference. With so many students sick, he'd have to go over everything. It was just easier to tailor the curriculum so that everyone could catch up.
He followed Adrian to the couch, sitting on the edge so he could brush his husband's hair. "You'll be fine, and they won't scar, and even if they did, you'd still look gorgeous. You always look amazing, and I love you, even when you're sick and bitching." He smiled softly. "It was just a fever, baby, and I know I don't usually get sick - or ever, but I'm okay."
Adrian pulled him down onto the sofa and rested his head on Stephen's lap, feeling rather pathetic and weak. Everything hurt, even the touch of Stephen's hand on his hair and he groaned, annoyed at himself. "This sucks," He slowly turned his head to look at his husband, his temples throbbing. "Have I mentioned how much this sucks? It really fucking does."
He smacked Stephen's thigh gently. "Quit it, I look completely awful and we both know it," he muttered. "And my back's hurting. Everything's hurting. I know you're better or getting there. Maybe you should go to the manor and stay away from this when you're well enough to."
"I know," he said with a smile. "I knew it the first millionth times you told me." He touched Adrian's forehead and he was still hot. "We don't know what the hell this is, but maybe we can get something to lower your temperature and deal with the aches and pains. It won't really help, but it'll make you feel better. I can owl John."
He shook his head. "You don't. You'll never be anything other than perfect in my eyes. You know that, and no, I'm not leaving. There is the school to think about, I'm not exposing William and his family to this, and I'm not leaving you alone."
"I doubt it'll work. Didn't work the first time I got Floot to get me something and I can't make John sick if he's not ill himself," he said, cringing from the touch on his head. His hand seemed to make the headache worse and Adrian was really starting to debate the pros and cons of crying like a little girl about it.
He coughed, grimacing when he tasted blood. "You're the biggest sap, baby, and why not? If you're fine then William and the children won't catch a thing and the school isn't going to miss you when they're all sick themselves," he pointed out. "I won't be alone. I'll have Floot to terrorize."
"I wasn't planning on seeing John. I was planning on getting him to send us some potions that would alleviate the pain, not end it. If anyone had anything to stop this, we would have known already." He pulled his hand away, sighing. "You can tell me when I'm hurting you."
Stephen slid down, crouching in front of the couch. "Are you all right, baby? Do you want to go to bed? Maybe you'll be more comfortable there." He rested his arms on the couch and put his chin on them. "I'm not even going to debate the possible latency or incubation period of an illness we don't understand. I'm not leaving you alone, because I'm a sap, and you are too important."
"But I want you to touch me. It just... Hurts," he muttered finally, looking petulant. "What the fuck's going to happen if all of the Healers are sick? How am I going to get better?" He didn't care about anyone other than him, Stephen and their friends/family. Everybody else could go and die for all he cared.
"I'm just peachy," Adrian mumbled irritably, wanting to glare at Stephen but he was being far too helpful for him to complain. "Nowhere's comfortable and moving hurts so here will be fine," he said, moving his arm anyway to rest his hand on the nape of Stephen's neck, stroking his skin slowly. "You're too nice."
"The body is a lot more resilient than you think. You're young and strong, and you'll be fine even without the Healers." Stephen needed to believe that; he did believe it. He couldn't consider any other outcome to whatever this was.
Stephen grinned. "Yes, I can see, and I can levitate you to bed. You won't have to move one muscle. Whatever you want, baby." He turned his head and kissed Adrian's arm. "I love you, you prick, and I'm not nice."
"I know how resilient my body is. I also know this hurts more than bleeding onto my parquet floor," he snapped, getting irritable. "Sorry, I just... This really fucking hurts and I was hallucinating last night. My fucking father was at the end of our bed."
He tried to glare but it took too much effort and he sighed, dropping his head back onto the sofa before slowly getting himself up into a sitting position and grunting at how his body screamed at him for doing so. "Ouchouchouchouch," he muttered under his breath. "Help me up, you're not levitating me but if I'm in bed I don't have to move later. And slow... I don't want to vomit again."
Stephen bit the inside of his cheek, because it was the only way he would not snap back. Nothing was as bad as watching Adrian bleed to death. "I know it hurts, and I'm sorry about your father, but he's dead and he can't hurt you anymore."
He stood up the moment Adrian moved. "Slow down, baby. Let me get you up, and then we'll change your clothes and you can settle for the night or the day." He reached around Adrian, knowing that no matter how careful he was, it would hurt a little. "On three."
"He's dead, I know he is. Still doesn't explain why I'm suddenly hallucinating and completely delusional," he said, sounding resigned. "I just... It scares me. I don't know what else my brain is going to conjure up to torture me with."
He slowed down, shaking his head. "Don't want clothes but I can't get you covered in pus. Pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt'll have to do," he admitted finally, gasping when Stephen's arm wrapped around him. He rose on three, buckling slightly and was glad Stephen was there to catch him. "God, I'm going to owe you for this when I get better, aren't I? You have the patience of a saint."
"Next time you see people scaring you, wake me up. I'll be the brave knight, chasing you feverish delusions away, like Don Quixote," he said, grinning.
Stephen rolled his eyes at Adrian's words. "One, stop worrying about me. Two, your clothes are probably a better alternative that getting stuck to the sheets because of the pus. Three, you owe me as much as I owe you," he said as they walked slowly to their bedroom. That should annoy Adrian enough to distract him from the pain for a little. "I'm hardly a saint."
"I'm asleep normally, how am I supposed to wake you up?" He laughed a little, it sounding strange when he thought about how bad he felt. "My very own Don Quixote. How can I pass that up, hmmm?"
Adrian let Stephen help him into the bedroom, collapsing on the bed as soon as he could. He knew he had to change his clothes but he didn't feel much like doing anything but wallow. "Pus is so disgusting," he said, watching Stephen. Pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt," he repeated. "And you're saint enough when it comes to me. I think you'll find everyone would back me up on that too."
"Yes, now we need a horse and a few wind mills, and I'll protect you forever," he said, helping Adrian sit down, before getting the clean clothes.
"I got it, tee and pyjama. My vocabulary is a little more advanced than that." He didn't bother taking Adrian's clothes off, ripping them apart with a spell to avoid any damage or soreness. "I figured you didn't want those anyway." Pus would leave a yellow halo anyway. Stephen cast another cleansing spell, and then a healing one, trying to repair as much of the skin as he could. "All done. Let's get you dressed again, and I'm still not a saint, no matter what anyone would say. Now, raise your arms."
"What if my horses are ill?" he mused once he'd sat down, worrying if they were fine. He was speaking more to himself; thinking hard was actually hurting. "They should be fine, right? Floot isn't sick so maybe they won't be."
Adrian snorted when Stephen ripped his clothes off. "You know normally I'd be all over you for that little maneuver," he teased. "And no, pus-stained clothing isn't what every well-dressed wizard will be wearing this season. Or what we should be wearing... God knows how many people are sick... Told you we should have holed up at the manor with your family."
He stayed still whilst Stephen tried to repair his back and slowly lifted his arms, the effort making him wince. "I feel like I'm all of five years old doing this."
"I'm sure we can find a horse that isn't sick. They usually don't have the same illnesses wizards have," he said amused, but when Adrian sounded serious, he shook his head. "No, baby, they'll be fine," he reassured him.
Stephen laughed. "I don't think you can even think about sex without hurting, let alone try anything." He raised an eyebrow. "You told me? I'm sorry, who was that had a job to do? Something about Weasley ripping you a new one if you didn't. We can't go now, not until we know what's wrong and make sure that we can't pass it on."
He helped Adrian with the clothes, working efficiently and without touching him as much as he usually did. "You're sick, baby. That's all. Consider yourself married, for better or worse, in sickness and in health and you get the picture. Now, lie down. I'll stay with you."
"Better be," he said. "They're like my bloody children, I don't want them sick too. Maybe I should send Floot to go and check on them, make sure they're fine. I don't trust the other house elves."
He smiled brightly at that. "I can always think about sex and even if it makes me want to cringe right now, in a week or two I should be fine," He stared back at Stephen. "Yes, told you. I know Weasley would have ripped me a new one and we could go to the estate. Maybe it's Hogsmeade that's making us sick."
Adrian bit back the grimaces as Stephen helped him change, gratefully lying back on the bed when he could. "And until death do us part? Can we not use that one quite yet please?" he asked, turning onto his side, the pox marks on his chest and back hurting most. "I hate this. Hate it. God, if this is Lestrange, I'm going to kill him."
"Maybe you should stop worrying about the horse," Stephen pointed out, "but if it makes you feel better, then sent Floot. However, I can assure you that animals and people don't contract the same viruses."
Stephen rolled his eyes. "Fine, think about it, but that's about the only thing you can do, and we can go to the estate, but there is no way in hell that I'm going there alone."
He went around and got into bed. "I didn't mention that one." He kissed Adrian gently. "You can kill him when you feel better."
"I'm being a pain, aren't I?" He sighed, feeling completely useless and unhelpful... It wasn't a great feeling. He'd almost prefer for this to be the other way around so he could look after Stephen except he didn't want his husband feeling this ill. "The horses'll be fine, you're right."
He pouted. "I think I have pox marks on my dick. I'm too scared to actually look," he admitted with a small smile. "Wouldn't make you go on your own and you wouldn't want to go anyway. If I'm worse in a week's time, maybe it could be a good idea."
Adrian kissed Stephen back, annoyed that he couldn't touch him like he wanted to. "Love you."
"It doesn't matter. If it makes you feel better, than we'll send Floot to the estate. It's very simple, baby." He couldn't even be upset because Adrian always about people and things he cared about. Being sick only made him worse, but it was temporary and Stephen could put up with it.
He chuckled. "I'm sure they'll go away, and I'd offer to look, but I get distracted and then we can't do anything." He traced Adrian's lips. "I wouldn't leave you and you wouldn't catch me in that house alone if you gave me all your money. I love you, too."
"What did I do to deserve you? he asked, smiling a little. He loved Stephen, he knew that, but it was at times like these that he realised just how much he did. "But honestly, it's fine. I'm sure they'll be having a fine time of getting fat."
Adrian snorted and shook his head. "I'm sure you wouldn't get distracted if there's actual spots on my dick," he said with a grin, kissing Stephen's finger. "I want Dreamless Sleep potion, see if it can send me off for a couple of hours. Can you see if there's any in the drawer?"
"You sent me food," Stephen replied with a grin. "You always want to fatten people and horses up." He wished he could do more to help Adrian, or at least that he could hold him, but that would be more harm than good at the moment.
"Nah, you distract me no matter what." Stephen hated that potion, but right now it sounded really good. "I'm sure we have some or I'll go and see Poppy for some." He kissed Adrian before standing up and checking for the potion. He returned to bed with the vial. "All right, baby, drink up and then you can sleep for a while."
"Nah, just want you to be happy," he said with a small smile, not adding that the thought of Stephen whoring himself out had made him feel far too guilty and absurdly... Angry. "And not hungry obviously."
He laughed a little. "Is that so? You didn't seem too distracted when you ripped off my clothes. Obviously I'm hideous with these pox marks. You vain thing, you," he teased, taking the vial off of him and drinking down half of the vial. He knew he'd got more and that Floot could find them but he didn't really want to become dependent on it. "Thanks," he said, already feeling woozy with how weak he was. "Sit with me? Just until I fall asleep?"
"I am happy, even when you bitch. I'm always happy with you around." He grinned. "And not hungry obviously."
Stephen sighed. "It's my job to take things literally. It's yours to accept that you're gorgeous and better looking than anyone on this planet no matter how shitty you feel."
He took the while and put it on the night stand in case they'd need it later, before lying down, making sure that the covers wrapped Adrian completely. "I'll stay as long as you need me to. I have to chase wind mills, remember?" Besides, he was still weak and staying in bed didn't sound like a horrible idea. "Sleep, baby; I'll be right here."
"I could murder a bacon sandwich with brown sauce but it'll only come back up again," he said, sounding depressed. "And I am more gorgeous than most of the population when sick but I don't really feel it. I feel like a dragon trampled on me a few hundred times... It isn't at all fun."
He smiled when Stephen put the covers over him, feeling himself get dizzy and weak. "'Kay," he murmured, eyes falling shut. "Love you," he murmured before falling into a sleep thankfully free of hallucinations and delirium.