Archive of Our Own

i think i have covid

Tucker stares at the text message, reads it again. Fuck.

Have you tested yourself yet?

henry's on it. i told him to get more tests cuz u should do one too. probably everyone, but u especially

Tucker should. He's been kissing Anthony. If Anthony's got it, he probably has, too. He doesn't feel sick yet, though, not at all, nothing like Anthony who already woke up with a headache drilling into his brain yesterday morning and then this morning again. He was sneezing all over the place yesterday, but the sneezing phase seems to have passed and left a very annoying cough instead.

Will do.
How are you feeling?

The little 'Typing…' appears at the top of the screen next to Anthony's profile picture (him sticking out his tongue at the photographer).

like death. head's killing me and i swear my lungs won't stay inside me if i keep coughing like this. almost made myself throw up

Aww man, sorry, baby boy. I wish I could be there with you

want u here too

As soon as we're all in the clear you won't be able to get rid of me.

is that a promise

More like a threat.

i like ur threats

Tucker smiles at his phone. Of course Anthony would say that.

Go to sleep, you need rest.

yes dad

–

So turns out neither of them have covid. Anthony's just gotten really sick with the flu. Henry's bought all the cold and flu medication you can get over the counter and now Tucker's been tasked with getting Anthony to take the appropriate amount.

'Tylenol,' Tucker says, taking a little packet out of the box, 'for the headache and to get the fever down.'

Anthony nods. He reaches for the water bottle Tucker's conveniently placed on his nightstand, but stops dead in his tracks before he even touches it. Hunched forward, his ribcage rattles with a cough, loud enough to startle Tucker, who is immediately at Anthony's side, a hand on his back to rub soothingly.

'Shh,' Tucker mumbles. 'You're okay.'

Anthony shakes his head, inhales shakily, keeps coughing. His whole body is trembling with the force of the coughing fit. The quiet whimpers in between the coughs sound pained. Tucker frowns, hand still rubbing Anthony's back, ignoring that the shirt is wet with sweat.

'You gotta breathe, baby.'

Another head shake. Anthony slips out of Tucker's grip and stumbles into the bathroom. Tucker follows him quickly to find him standing at the sink, hands gripping the porcelain as he heaves, still coughing.

'Feels like 'm,' Anthony gets out between coughs, 'like 'm gonna puke.'

He's panicking, Tucker can tell, and that makes Tucker panic, too. Anthony doesn't have a fear of throwing up, right? He'd have mentioned that, surely. It doesn't matter because Anthony doesn't throw up. He coughs again and again and then the fit subsides and he gasps for air, sinking in on himself. Carefully, Tucker's hands settle on Anthony's hips to pull him back until they're back to chest. Anthony's warm against him, fever-flushed and sweaty, and he lets Tucker hold him up until his breath evens out a little, his weight heavy against Tucker's body.

'Come on,' Tucker says, lips pressing a kiss to Anthony's temple. 'Meds and sleep, baby boy. How does that sound?'

Anthony closes his eyes, wipes his mouth, nods.

'Sounds good.'

Back in the 'bedroom' of their hotel room, Tucker watches Anthony mix in the powder with the water. Thank fuck Henry remembered that Anthony doesn't like pills.

('It's fine,' Anthony said when Tucker first only found the usual Tylenol bottle. 'I take pills every fucking morning, this isn't different. Shouldn't be a problem.')

The glass is empty in less than ten seconds, Anthony's throat making tiny noises as he hurries to down the water as quickly as possible. Anthony's fingers shake as he hands it back to Tucker who places it on the nightstand.

'There we go,' Tucker says.

Anthony nods. The smile on his lips seems forced, but he reaches out a hand for Tucker and pulls him in, along into the bed.

'This is stupid,' Anthony mumbles two minutes later against Tucker's chest when they're finally semi comfortable, the blanket tucked around them both. He turns his head to cough and then settles back against Tucker. 'I'm gonna get you sick.'

Tucker kisses Anthony's forehead, stubble scratching as he strokes his thumb over Anthony's cheek.

'I don't think this'll make a difference. I've already got your germs anyway. And I don't wanna leave you alone right now.'

The grip on Tucker's waist tightens.

'Don't want you to leave either.'

'See? And if I get sick, we can be sick buddies.'

–

Anthony's been in and out of sleep most of the afternoon. Tucker is at his side, taking a nap at first, too, and then staying awake to make sure Anthony's coughing fits don't kill him in his sleep (he knows they won't, but still), to have a gentle hand somewhere on Anthony's body at all times so that he doesn't wake up thinking he's been left alone, because the one time Tucker was in the bathroom when Anthony was shaken awake by a cough, Anthony panicked.

'Fuck,' Anthony chokes out, when another coughing fit that has woken him up finally subsides.

Tucker tucks a strand of Anthony's hair behind his ear. The fever is down a little, he thinks, Anthony doesn't feel as warm anymore, but maybe it's just Tucker's senses deceiving him.

'Take a deep breath,' Tucker instructs.

Anthony does as he is told, opening his mouth to draw in air because his nose is stuffed. He kicks at the blankets, apparently too warm for comfort, and when they're settled around his hips, leaving his torso in the sweated through t-shirt, he turns and hides his face in the crook of Tucker's neck.

'Everythin' hurts,' he mumbles, 'and not in the good way.'

'Everything?'

Anthony nods.

'Yeah. Sorta feels like -' he interrupts himself with a cough '- like muscle pain in all my limbs and the headache's still there and I am way too hot and I just wanna fucking die.' He must feel the tiny tension in Tucker's arms because he adds, 'Sorry. Sorry, not really. This just fucking sucks.'

Tucker exhales. He figured. But Anthony's rough patches come quickly and not always with warning and Tucker can't help but worry when Anthony says something like this. Not when he's seen him at his absolute worst just about a year ago.

'More meds?,' Tucker offers.

Anthony immediately shakes his head. Tucker doesn't blame him. Anthony is careful about any kind of substance going into his body now, Tucker knows, and he also knows that it took a decent amount of convincing to get him on and to get him to stay on the psych meds he takes, even if they really do help him feel a lot more human and in control most of the time.

'Maybe you should sleep some more,' Tucker suggests. 'Sleep helps.'

'God,' Anthony moans, 'I fucking hope so.'

–

At some point in the past five minutes Anthony has started shivering and hasn't stopped so Tucker wraps the blanket back around him. Heat radiates from him as if he was a fucking furnace, and he's hot under Tucker's hands when Tucker tucks the edge of the blanket around his naked arms. He's tossing and turning, too, mumbling quietly in his sleep. Tucker can't make out what he says but he is pretty sure that Anthony will be just as exhausted when he wakes as he was when he fell asleep.

Anthony has clenched his hands around Tucker's shirt, groaning softly, and he mumbles some more when there's a soft knock on the door.

'Ant?,' Tucker says.

There's no reaction. Anthony just keeps his grip around Tucker's shirt. Very carefully, Tucker tries to loosen his fingers.

'Tony, baby. I gotta open the door.'

Anthony's eyes flutter open. He stares at Tucker, bleary-eyed and confused, before he moans and turns away.

'Tony?'

'S fine,' Anthony whispers. 'Just hurts.'

'I'm sorry, baby boy,' Tucker whispers back. He leans over and kisses Anthony's neck. 'You sleep some more, okay? Someone's at the door.'

Tucker waits for Anthony to nod and kisses the spot right under his ear as well before he pulls himself away. Geoff's at the door. He doesn't look surprised to find Tucker in Anthony's room. There's a paper bag in his hands and he hands it over to Tucker.

'Sandwiches for you and Anthony. We couldn't find any with vegan cheese, so it's just veggies and tomato spread for you.'

Tucker smiles and nods.

'Thank you.'

Geoff smiles, too. He looks past Tucker, apparently trying to see if he can catch a glimpse of Anthony, but the bed is mostly hidden by the door, so he can probably only make out Anthony's feet under the blanket.

'How's he doing?,' Geoff asks. 'He's not playing tonight, is he?'

Tucker shakes his head. Anthony is an absolute workaholic, but even he wouldn't try to play like this.

'He's really sick. He has a fever and the coughing keeps waking him up so isn't really resting but he doesn't want any more meds either.'

Geoff pulls a face.

'Sucks, man.'

'Yeah.'

'You want us to do soundcheck without you?'

Tucker looks back at Anthony. He's curled up underneath the blankets and he's clutching the sweater that Tucker took off a few minutes ago in between his arms, nose pressed into the fabric despite probably not being able to smell much. God yeah, Tucker wants them to do soundcheck without him. He doesn't even wanna leave Anthony to play tonight, but he'll have to.

'That'd be good,' Tucker says, 'thank you, Geoff.'

'Sure thing, man. You go take care of your boyfriend.'

Tucker raises an eyebrow.

'We're not-,' he starts, but Geoff interrupts him.

'Yeah, I know. You'll come to your senses. Tell Anthony to feel better soon and don't be late tonight.'

'I won't be.'

Geoff nods and then Tucker closes the door. He walks back to the bed, sits down on Anthony's side and places his free hand on Anthony's hip.

'Tony?,' he says quietly. 'Geoff says to feel better soon.'

'Heard him. Tell him I'm trying but apparently not hard enough.'

Tucker snorts.

'He brought sandwiches for us, too, are you hungry?'

The answer is a cough and a tiny shrug. Still, Anthony turns around. He paws at Tucker's thigh, keeps his hand there, warmth slowly seeping through Tucker's jeans.

'You should probably eat,' Tucker says. He doesn't actually know that for sure but getting some calories into Anthony seems like a good idea. 'And then we can sleep some more.'

'You're gonna leave me,' Anthony mumbles.

'Only for the show. I promise I'll be back as soon as I can, I'll be gone for like four hours at most.'

The pout on Anthony's lips would be cute if he didn't look so fucking sick. Tucker's hand wanders from Anthony's hip up to his face, fingers stroking over the sweaty skin.

'Food,' Tucker says. 'Come on. You can eat in bed, you just gotta sit up a little.'

Anthony is only a few bites into his sandwich before he wraps it back up in the paper it came in. He looks at Tucker, who is finished with his own sandwich, and his expression is almost apologetic when he hands it back.

'Sorry,' he rasps out, 'just not hungry.'

'It's fine. You can eat the rest later.'

Anthony nods. He reaches for the water bottle, trembling fingers unscrewing the cap, and slowly sips. There is just enough time for him to hand the bottle over to Tucker before another coughing fit hits, making him shake and gasp for air. Tucker is quick to put the bottle down and climb onto the bed to rub Anthony's back.

'You're okay,' he mumbles, almost automatically, 'shh, you're okay.'

Anthony keeps coughing. When the fit finally subsides, his weight slumps against Tucker. His breath is trembling. It takes almost ten seconds before Tucker realizes Anthony is crying.

'Anthony?,' he asks, hand stilling on Anthony's back. 'What's wrong?'

Anthony shakes his head.

'S nothing.'

'It's clearly not nothing.'

Anthony's ribs shake under Tucker's hands as he coughs before he speaks, voice rough and raspy.

'Sleeping didn't do fucking shit. Because I can't fucking rest properly and constantly wake up and everything still hurts and I just want it to stop.'

'Oh, baby, come here.'

Trying to make sure Anthony doesn't fall while Tucker rearranges them both, Tucker pulls him onto his lap, arms around Anthony's back.

'Shit, sorry-' Anthony sniffs and hides his face in Tucker's t-shirt. 'Sorry for crying - I just feel so shit.'

'It's okay, Tony, you don't need to apologize.'

'But-'

'No buts. You don't feel good, you're allowed to be upset about that.'

A nod, barely there, is the answer. Anthony sputters as a cough interrupts a sob and Tucker gently squeezes him against himself.

'Shh, baby boy. Take your time. I've got you.'

It takes a few minutes for Anthony to calm down. He goes completely boneless, limp in Tucker's arms, as his sniffles and coughs and hiccups sound through the quiet of the room. Heat spreads into Tucker's hand where it's on Anthony's back still rubbing soothingly, and Anthony's hair feels disgustingly sweaty between the fingers of his other hand. Tucker doesn't mind. He keeps holding Anthony close to his chest, trying to be at least some sort of comfort even if he knows that he can't really make it better.

Anthony ends up falling asleep like that. A little drool collects in his mouth and drips into Tucker's shirt. Tucker wipes it off and makes a mental note to change before he has to leave. He tries to move around as little as possible while pulling the blanket up, covering them both and pulling it tight. He doesn't want to wake Anthony up. God knows he needs the rest.

–

As promised, Tucker leaves immediately after the show. He ignores Geoff's and Tim's pointed stares (because these two can think what they want, really), and spots his stuff.

Against Tucker's expectations, Anthony isn't in bed when Tucker slips into his hotel room. He's on the balcony, sitting on one of the chairs, his jacket wrapped around his drawn up knees, smoking. The sandwich paper is on the little table, and it's empty. Good. At least Anthony has eaten something now.

Anthony's eyes dart over to Tucker when he steps outside and despite being less than pleased with Anthony for smoking when he's already sick as a dog, Tucker can't help but smile when he notices that Anthony is wearing his sweatshirt.

'Hi,' Tucker says.

'Sorry for being so clingy and crying on you this afternoon,' is the first thing Anthony says.

He's a little red-faced, even visible in the weird yellowish light that manages to fall through the open balcony door. If it's from embarrassment or the fever, Tucker can't quite tell. Tucker steps closer and puts his hand on Anthony's shoulder.

'You really don't need to be. I told you, you were feeling really shitty and you are allowed to be upset about that.'

'I still feel really shitty, to be honest,' Anthony mumbles.

He drags on his cigarette. The smoke settles and irritates his lungs, making him cough.

'You shouldn't be smoking,' Tucker says.

'I already felt shitty before I smoked.'

'Yeah, but this'll just make it worse.' There's a pause, Tucker waiting for Anthony to say anything, and when Anthony doesn't speak, he adds, 'You probably shouldn't even be outside without a fuckton of blankets on top of you.'

'I didn't wanna stink up the hotel sheets.'

'Anthony.'

Anthony shrugs. Tucker can't help the sigh pushing past his lips. He loves Anthony. He truly does. Sometimes he is just a little exasperating, though.

'Come on. Put the cigarette out and go lay down. I'll make us a tea.'

'Kay.'

The little glimmer of the cigarette disappears as Anthony presses it into the ashtray. He picks up the sandwich paper and follows Tucker inside.

Anthony is asleep before the tea is done steeping, dead to the world and for once not twitching around at every little noise around him. Tucker strokes over his sweaty forehead, tucks a strand of blond hair behind Anthony's ear, and slips into bed next to him.

'Sleep well, baby boy.'