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Gavin unlocked the door and stepped inside. Hank's monster of a dog immediately galloped over, leaving a trail of drool and floating fur behind him. "Easy, Sumo," Gavin said, holding up his hands just in case he had to fend him off. "Just here to check on Hank. You just be a good dog. Over there. I'm a cat person, not interested."
Sumo whined, and dropped down onto the floor, resting his head on his paws and giving Gavin big sad eyes. By now Sumo had figured out that Gavin just wasn't falling for his charms, but he had never stopped trying to guilt him into it. Not happening. Drool, gross.
The door to Hank's room was shut, and Gavin eased it open slowly. Hank was just a mass of blankets in the center of the bed, only a tuft of grey hair sticking out at the top. "You awake?" Gavin asked quietly.
The mass of blankets shifted, and there was a groan, and then, "No. Go 'way."
"Yeah, that's not going to happen," Gavin said. He walked over and pulled the blankets back enough that he could press a hand to Hank's forehead. "You're burning up."
"What are you doing here?" Hank asked groggily.
"The 'bot told me you were sick."
"I'm not sick, so fuck off." Except it actually came out as 'Ide dot thick, so thuck odd,' which wasn't actually very convincing.
"Oh, yeah, I can tell," Gavin said. "The picture of health. Dumbass. Did you even take any of those pills Connor bought?" There was no answer, other than Hank shivering and trying to pull the blankets back up, so Gavin took that as a no. Shaking his head, he made a few more comments about Hank's idiocy, and then looked around until he spotted a bag from the local pharmacy hanging off the knob on the bedside table.
Apparently the dumb robot had just bought out the entire store, no wonder Hank hadn't tried digging though it for something that would help. Gavin sorted through them, tossing the rejects into a pile near the closet. "No, no, no," had the android even read the labels, or had he just tossed everything with 'cold and flu' on the package into the cart? "Okay, here," Gavin said, finding one that was just for fever and congestion. "Sit up and take these. Come on, Hank, just sit up. You'll feel better."
Finally, with a lot of grumbling, Hank rolled over, and sat up, and took the pills. "How'd you even get in here?" Hank grumbled.
"I have a key," Gavin said. "I've had a key for years."
"M'changing the locks."
"Yeah, good luck with that," Gavin said. "Connor will just give me a copy." Connor hated Gavin. Like, really hated Gavin. But he was slowly starting to come around on the idea that Gavin might not be so bad for Hank. Connor would give him a copy of the key, if Hank actually tried to change the locks, which he wouldn't.
"Fuckin' androids," Hank said, lying back down and mumbling into his pillow.
"Yeah, that's what you get for trusting walking computers," Gavin said. "They're nothing but trouble." He brushed some of the hair out of Hank's eyes, and let his fingers linger too long on his forehead, ostensibly checking for fever. It hadn't been enough time for the medication to take effect, but that was no reason not to touch.
"Shouldn't you be at work?" Hank asked groggily.
"Nah," Gavin said. "Got the day off." Unlike certain dumbasses, he actually remembered to get his flu shots, so he had plenty of sick days saved up. He could afford to take one or two to look after the dumbass in question. Gavin crawled up onto the bed and flopped down beside Hank, stealing the extra pillow and tucking it under his head. Then he absolutely didn't watch Hank sleep, because that would be dumb and sappy. There just wasn't anything else to look at.
---
Gavin had actually dozed off for a bit, but he woke up to the sound of coughing. Hank had rolled over, and was struggling to sit up, so Gavin got an arm behind him and helped lever him up. He rubbed circles on Hank's back, and when the coughing subsided he passed over a box of tissues and managed not to make a face as Hank blew his nose. Sick people were kind of disgusting, but he would deal, because it was Hank.
"I think your fever has come down some," he said, as Hank slumped against him. He was still very warm, but not as bad as he'd been, and the shivering seemed to have stopped.
"I feel like crap," Hank admitted.
"Yeah, that's what happens when you get sick, dumbass," Gavin said, and pushed the hair back out of Hank's face and let his thumb stroke across his cheek. They didn't do this soft shit, not anymore, but hopefully Hank was too out of it to remember. "You need to take better care of yourself."
"Didn't do it on purpose."
"That's no excuse," he said, and bumped him a bit with his shoulder. "You think you can manage a shower? Might make you feel better, and to be honest you're kind of ripe."
"No," Hank said, then, "maybe. Yeah, might not be a bad idea."
Gavin got up and helped drag Hank to his feet, then stayed there a minute to make sure he was steady, one arm around his waist. "You need me to come scrub your back?" he offered, only half jokingly. It wouldn't be as fun as their usual shower adventures, but it certainly didn't hurt to make the offer.
"I can manage," Hank said, pulling away from him and wobbling towards the door.
"Uh huh," Gavin said, completely unconvinced. He followed a few steps behind, just in case. Hank made it to the bathroom okay, but Gavin hovered in the doorway. "I'm leaving the door open," he said. "Just in case you change your mind."
Hank pulled off his shirt, and then glanced over. "You just planning to stand there and watch?"
"You didn't want my help," Gavin said with a grin, "but I'm not going to turn down a free show." He caught the shirt that Hank threw at his face, and then stayed put until he actually made it into the shower.
Keeping one ear trained on the bathroom, he headed back into the bedroom and stripped the sweat stained sheets off the bed. A hamper had appeared in one corner, since the last time Gavin had stayed over, so he shoved them in there, along with Hank's dirty shirt. The clean sheets were neatly folded in the linen closet, and he knew that had to be Connor's doing. Hank never folded anything. Gavin got the clean sheets on the bed, but just left the blankets in a pile in the middle to deal with later. He dug around in the dresser until he found a shirt and boxers for Hank to change into, and as he was heading back to the bathroom with them he heard a clatter of bottles and a muffled curse.
"Shit," Gavin said. "You okay in there?"
"No," came the reply. "Okay, you can help."
He pulled back the shower curtain and Hank was leaning against the wall, looking about ready to collapse. "You're clean enough," Gavin said, as he reached in and turned the shower off. He got Hank wrapped in a big fluffy towel and then helped him climb out of the tub and steered him over towards the closed toilet. "Okay, over here, just sit down."
Gavin got him sitting down and then grabbed another towel and started scrubbing at his hair to dry it. Hank allowed that for another minute and then collapsed forward, pressing his head against Gavin's stomach and letting out a curse. "Maybe the shower was a bad idea," Gavin said.
"No," Hank said. "Feel better, just...fuck."
"Yeah, you smell better too," Gavin agreed. He ran his hands through Hank's hair and didn't even really care that his shirt was getting soaked. This was more of that soft shit that he should be complaining about, but Hank was sick, so he was going to let it pass. "Okay, sit up," he said, "time for clothes."
"You don't have to do this."
"Hey, if you want to stay naked, I'm not going to complain," Gavin teased. "Kind of looking forward to scandalising Connor when he gets home."
Hank let out a huff of almost laughter, and gave him a light shove, but then sat up and let Gavin help him into clean clothes. Actually getting him on his feet was more of an effort, but they made it work. "Why do you have to be this tall?" Gavin complained. Hank being huge was usually a bonus, but he had never actually had to try and keep him on his feet before. "Okay, couch or bed?"
"Couch."
"Good choice." For some reason, the couch was always better for being sick. It had a television, and lots of cushions, and preferably cats. Hank was an idiot dog person, so Sumo would have to fill in there, but it was probably close enough. They made it into the living room, he dumped Hank on the couch, and by the time he made it back with a pillow and blanket Hank was almost passed out again. Once he got him situated, he headed into the kitchen to see what the food options were. Hank should probably eat something soon.
Connor's influence was noticeable in the kitchen too. There was actually food in the cupboards, and in the fridge, most of it even fresh and moderately healthy. Gavin didn't want to feel any gratitude towards the android, but considering the usual state of Hank's kitchen there was some kind of feeling there. He ruthlessly stomped that feeling down and started pulling out ingredients. Chicken noodle soup was the go to for sick days, and even though there was zero chance of Gavin actually cooking chicken--gross--surprisingly enough all the substitutions he needed were there.
He got the broth going on the stove and chopped up everything else, tossing them in a pan to brown a bit. It actually smelled pretty good, and set his stomach to rumbling, but he could wait to eat until Hank woke back up. When everything looked right, he dumped the veggies into the broth, and left it to simmer under a lid. Briefly he considered leaving the mess for Connor to deal with, but screw it, he wasn't going to be any more in the android's debt, so he cleaned up after himself and headed back to the living room.
Hank was still out cold, and the dog was sitting right next to him, head on the couch, eyes big and sad. Gavin lifted up Hank's feet and squeezed in underneath them, settling down on the couch and pulling out his phone for entertainment. A minute later, he felt a weight settling down on his knees and looked up to see Sumo directing those sad eyes at him. "What do you want?" Gavin asked.
Sumo whined, and gave him the big sad eyes, and Gavin felt a small stab of pity. "He's fine," he told the dog, "just needs some rest. Oh, don't look at me like that." More whining, and Gavin huffed out a sigh. He reached over and scratched him behind the ears. "Okay, but just this once. Don't think that this is going to become a thing, and you better not drool on me."
---
Sometime later, Hank stirred, and let loose with another round of coughing, and Gavin gave one of his ankles a squeeze. "Morning, sunshine," he said, just to be an ass. "How you feeling?"
"Ugh," Hank said eloquently.
"Yeah, sounds about right," he agreed. He stuck one of his hands under the blanket and pressed it against Hank's leg, which was definitely feeling warmer. "Probably time for more cold meds," he said. "Think you can sit up?"
"No. Go away."
"Okay, good," Gavin said, ignoring him completely. "I'll go get them." He got up, and headed into the kitchen first, to dump some noodles into the soup. It was definitely time for Hank to actually eat something. Then he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and swung by the bedroom to grab the cold pills. When he made it back to the living room, Hank had managed to sit up, though he didn't look very happy about it. Gavin pressed the pills into his hand, then passed over the water bottle. "Stay awake for ten more minutes, okay? You need to eat something. I made soup."
"You cooked?" Hank asked, sounding far too dubious.
"I can cook!" Gavin said, annoyed. "Just because you can't cook doesn't mean no one can."
"I cook."
"Grilling isn't cooking, it's just burning meat," Gavin said. He flicked Hank on the forehead for good measure, earning himself a glare. "Drink your water, I'll be back with food in a minute. Real food." He picked up the television remote and shoved it into Hank's hand. "Just find something to watch."
He went back into the kitchen and stirred the soup until the noodles looked done, and then filled two bowls, putting Hank's in an oversized mug just in case a spoon was too much trouble. The television was showing a hockey game when he got back, and Hank was still upright, even though he looked rather miserable about it. Gavin handed him the bowl of soup and then settled down on the couch beside him.
Hank stared down suspiciously into the bowl and gave it a cautious sniff. "What is it?"
"Chicken noodle soup," Gavin lied. "Obviously. Just eat it."
The spoon clinked against the bowl and Hank tried a bite. Then another. When he apparently couldn't find anything to complain about, he kept eating. "It's good," he admitted grudgingly. Halfway through the bowl, he paused, then fished out a piece of 'chicken' and glared at it. "This is tofu, isn't it?"
"Yes, and you liked it. So shut up and eat your soup."
---
Gavin woke up to the sound of a door closing, and Sumo thundering across the house. He rubbed at his eyes and then looked over to see Connor kneel down to wrap his arm around the dog and shower him with 'good boys.' Hank was out cold again, still sitting up, but leaning heavily against Gavin's side. The hockey game was over and on the screen the sportscasters were talking excitedly as they showed recaps.
Once the dog had been sufficiently babied, Connor stood up, and walked over, and asked, "How's Hank?"
"He's fine," Gavin said. "He'll be fine. It's just a cold." Still, one of his hands slipped up to press against Hank's forehead, checking for fever.
"I can take over, if you want to go home," Connor offered.
He thought about that. Thought about the 'bot making Hank soup, and helping him out of the shower, and sitting there on the couch with Hank leaning against his shoulder. He suddenly wanted to punch Connor for even suggesting it. "Oh hell no," Gavin said. Not that he was jealous. He didn't need to be jealous of a hunk of plastic. "I've got this. Go do android things. Calibrate something, or whatever."
Connor actually smiled at that. "Thank you, for taking care of him."
Gavin made a noise of acknowledgement, and stamped down hard on the urge to say something rude, or even just flip Connor off. Hank wanted them to get along, and he was trying. He had to admit that Connor was doing his own share of taking care of Hank. Gavin should probably say thanks for that, but that was a bridge too far. So he settled for ignoring the android, and letting his head drop back down against Hank's, and trying to go back to sleep.