Title: Midnight Vignette 3 - "Illness"
 Author: Surreal
 E-mail: surreal666@hotmail.com
 Website:  http://netjeru.ma-at.net/SurrealArts/
 Feedback: Yes, please!
 Status: series, complete
 Category: Slash, Langly/Byers
 Rating: PG
 Summary: Byers is sick, and Langly can't sleep.
 Archive: The Lone Slasher
 Disclaimer: Not mine...not really anyone's at the moment!
 Notes:  Third of four part vignette series


~~<>~~


I've discovered in the past few hours that trying to hold in
a cough just makes it worse.  

When I get my breath back and the little flashy light things
in front of my eyes dim down, I can feel Ringo's hand stroking
up and down my arm.  Feels nice, but it also means I woke him up.

"You okay?" he says quietly, leaning over my shoulder from where
he is laying behind me.  The warm weight of him is pressed close
to me.  Normally this would feel so good, but I'm really warm and
it's making me uncomfortable.

I sniff a little, a futile attempt to clear my sinuses for a moment.
"Yeah...sorry, trying not to wake you."  I shift onto my back and
slide away from him.

He doesn't get the clue and moves next to me again.  His hand
presses against my chest to hold me there.  "You didn't.  Haven't
gone to sleep yet."

"Hmm?  It's almost two-thirty."  I know because I've been up
all night, glaring at the clock every twenty minutes or so.  Moving
my head brings on another round of coughing and I have to roll
onto my side to make it stop.  His hand moves to my back and
caresses in a slow, gentle massage.  It eases my breathing and
helps me relax again.

"I know," he says finally.  "I can't sleep, I'm worried about you."
His hand comes up to smooth back the short, sweat-dampened 
hairs from my temple.  I move onto my back again and look up
at him.  He's propped up on one elbow, watching me with a
look of pure concern on his face.

"I'm fine.  It's just a cold."  I know I sound like a stubborn
five-year old, but I hate being mother-henned.

"You have a fever," he insists, placing his palm on my forehead
as if to demonstrate the fact.  

I turn my head and push his hand away.  "I'm FINE," I snap, then
immediately regret it when I see the hurt look on his face.

"You're sick.  Let me fuss over you."  His fingers brush lightly over
the bare skin of my chest for a moment, then he lays his hand flat
on my ribcage.

I sigh, which leads to a weak cough.  "Well, I can't sleep, and you 
WON'T sleep..." I relent.  I kick the covers off and shiver
at the sudden rush of cold night air.  

"Hey, don't do that.  I know you have a fever and you feel hot, 
but this will only make it worse," he reaches down and covers
my legs back up, but I glare at him and he lets the blanket stop
at my waist.  "Leave it there, John."

I give him my best pouty look but he is immune to it by now.

He kisses my lips very lightly and goes back to petting back
the damp hair from my face.  "Can I get you anything?"

I'd rather he just go to sleep and let me wallow in my own
misery, but I know he won't.  So..."Water would be good.  
My throat hurts."

"Okay, that I can do.  Be right back."  He gives me a sweet smile
and slides out of bed, his hand trailing down my chest as he 
moves.

Another coughing fit takes me by surprise and by the time it's 
over I'm curled up on my side, gasping for breath.  Ringo's
warm hand is stroking my back gently, soothing me back into
coherence.  His voice comes through the fog, murmuring soft,
nonsensical things.  

He reaches across my body and helps me onto my back again,
propping me up on a couple of pillows.  "Better?" he asks,
watching me closely.

I nod slightly, but the tiny movement makes me cough again.
Frustrated, I close my eyes and take a shuddering breath.
A pained tear escapes and rolls down my cheek, leaving a 
hot, wet trail.

Without warning I feel Ringo's tongue licking away the tear,
then his lips against my temple.  I open my eyes to find him
smiling tenderly at me.  "You okay now?" 

"Yeah," I wheeze and smile back weakly.

"I brought some Nyquil and water, think you could swallow some?"
He reaches over me to the nightstand where he set the small
green bottle and a glass of water.  

"I think so," I answer in a voice I hardly recognize as my own.
I HATE being sick.

He pats my arm affectionately and gives me a dose of the strong,
foul tasting liquid.  It makes me cough AGAIN, but I manage to 
keep it down.  He follows that quickly by pressing the glass of 
water to my lips and I take a few small sips to clear the taste from
my mouth.

I start to settle back against the pillows but Ringo stops me with his
hand.  "Hang on..." he shifts onto his side and pulls one of the pillows
out from under my head.  He replaces it with his arm and I get what
he wants.  

Reaching up to turn off the light, I scoot back to spoon into him,
lay my head on his arm and let him hold me.  

He pulls the blanket back up over us and wraps his other arm around
my chest, pulling me firmly against him.  "Okay?" he whispers 
against the back of my neck.

"Yeah...s'good," I mumble, letting the medicine's affects pull me 
toward sleep.  He kisses the back of my neck softly and I drift to
sleep with him wrapped around me comfortably.

~~<>~~

End.