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Terrible.
Fucking terrible.
Fucking awful horrible terrible bullshit horseshit ratshit fucking fuck.
Dilan blew his nose into another tissue and threw it on top of the mountain of them on the floor. Motherfucker.
It was ridiculous to be confined to quarantine for such a minor bug. He could be doing his job perfectly fine. But after the fifth time Dilan had tried to escape his bedroom, Ansem swore that if he found Dilan out and about again he’d fire him. Which wouldn’t have stopped Dilan from trying, if he hadn’t been caught and snitched on by Ienzo all five times. Fucking shitty-ass child and his all-seeing eyes.
Dilan pulled the blanket higher over himself. Stupid thing kept falling off. Plus it was so much thinner than he remembered. He shut his eyes and tensed his muscles to keep from shivering.
…His nose started dripping again. Of-fucking-course.
The last tissue from the box fell onto the summit of Mount Bullshit, and Dilan hurled the empty box across the room. It bounced off the closed door, taunting him.
Someone knocked back from the other side.
“Fuck off,” Dilan rasped, sending him into another coughing fit.
Aeleus opened the door anyway.
Dilan scowled. “It’s your turn to guard my prison cell, is it?”
Aeleus frowned. More notably, he didn’t deny it. He carried his tray of meager attempts at appeasement inside.
“What is Ansem forcing upon me now?” Dilan said between sniffs and clearing his throat.
“This is from me.” Aeleus passed Mount Bullshit and frowned harder, then set the tray on the nightstand.
A fresh glass of water. A bowl of soup. A book. And…
“Whiskey?” Dilan picked up the small glass. “Really?”
“I know it’s ill-advised,” Aeleus said, “and might make you feel worse, but…” He trailed off and gestured at Dilan.
Only Aeleus truly understood what Dilan needed. “Thank you,” Dilan muttered as he raised the glass to his nose. He couldn’t smell any of the aromas, but at least he could still feel the sting. He sipped at it, tasting it as best he could, and immediately relaxed against the headboard.
When he finished, he slammed the glass back onto the tray. “That was fucking delightful,” Dilan said.
Aeleus gave him the hint of a smile. Then he shoved the glass of water at him.
Dilan scoffed but still started downing the damn thing. He paused after half of it to say, “Are you going to babysit me all day?”
“You don’t want the company?”
Dilan growled, then took another sip. Unfortunately, the ice water was quite nice on his aching throat, especially now that the whiskey was starting to take hold on his empty stomach. He set the water down, swallowed a few times, and peered into the bowl of soup. “Where’s that from?”
“Me.”
“Eloquent as always,” Dilan said. He started with a spoonful of broth—and he definitely didn’t sigh in satisfaction at the hearty warmth of it, wipe that damn smile off your face, Aeleus.
“Do you need anything else?” Aeleus asked, looking for an excuse to escape Dilan’s death glare probably.
“I don’t need you,” Dilan said as he slurped down more of Aeleus’s homemade soup.
“Do you want anything else?”
Dilan sneered through another bite. “’m out of tissues.” He waved the spoon at Mount Bullshit.
Aeleus cringed. “That’s disgusting,” he said, and Dilan snorted at the bluntness of it.
“It’s my masterpiece. I’m donating it to a museum.”
Aeleus shook his head and started shoveling crumpled tissues into the unused trash can.
“Hey—I worked fucking hard on that.” Dilan waved a weak arm to stop him. “And that’s much more disgusting. You’ll catch the shit I have.”
Aeleus ignored him and kept going, and wasn’t having your best friend clean up your sick mess the most humiliating ordeal ever. That’s why Dilan’s cheeks were burning. The humiliation.
After Mount Bullshit was brutally bulldozed, Aeleus left, then returned with clean hands and two more boxes of tissues. “Thanks,” Dilan grumbled into a tissue as he blew his nose hard. He dropped it on the floor to begin a new art installation.
Glaring, Aeleus picked it up instantly. Aeleus really wasn’t half-assing his nurse duties. Fuck.
“Is your fever worse?”
“Huh?” Dilan said stupidly, staring down at the bed.
“You’re sweating.” Then Aeleus stuck the back of his hand on Dilan’s forehead. Holy fucking motherfucking shit.
Dilan sat perfectly still and did not even slightly think about Aeleus touching him until Aeleus removed his hand.
“Hmm.” Aeleus frowned.
“What,” Dilan hissed.
“You’re not that warm, but you keep fidgeting.”
Of course he was, with Aeleus fucking staring at him so intently with those definitely-not-gorgeous eyes. Dilan wanted to punch him.
“I’ll bring you more water,” Aeleus said.
Aeleus was halfway out the door when Dilan stopped him by muttering his name.
“…Can I get another blanket?” Dilan said pathetically, like the pathetic fuck he was.
Aeleus nodded kindly. It was infuriating. But then Aeleus came back a moment later with more water and a thick blanket and Dilan couldn’t stay mad.
Wait. “Isn’t that yours?” Dilan asked, staring at the familiar brown knit fabric. Not that he made a habit of looking at Aeleus’s bed. Or thinking about it.
“Easiest one to find,” Aeleus said as he opened it up and draped it over Dilan—
“Fuck no, you are not tucking me in,” Dilan spat, tossing around and knocking both blankets off himself.
Aeleus held still and waited like an obnoxious little bitch. Dilan glared at him. Aeleus kept waiting.
With a huge grunt, Dilan flopped down and buried his face in the pillow. He didn’t react as Aeleus gently laid both blankets over him.
“Take care of yourself,” Aeleus whispered. He rubbed Dilan’s back for a moment before his footsteps receded and the door clicked shut.
Dilan stayed pressed against the pillow. He coughed a little and sniffed. Then he violently kicked the blankets off himself.
His skin was on fire.