Chapter Text
“’M fine.”
Matthew frowned at him. “You nearly coughed up a lung not ten minutes ago. You are *not* fine.”
Aly turned towards the kitchen and tried to raise his voice louder despite his scratchy throat.
“Clay, tell him –“
“I’m on Matty’s side,” Clayton called before he could finish. Something crashed to the ground, followed by a muffled curse, another clatter.
“Are you –“
“I’m *fine* -“ Clayton appeared at the doorway, wiping hair from his face, a dripping metal mixing bowl and towel in hand. “Just dropped a damn bowl. I’m fucking fine, but you ain’t, Aly.”
Aly scowled. A cough tickled at his throat, and he barely suppressed a shiver, but that was just because of the draft. He was *fine*. “I fucking am too.”
“Fifty bucks and a bottle of whisky says you’ve got a fucking fever,” Clayton shot back. “And none of that ninety nine point two bullshit, a real one.”
Oh, he was *on.*
“Deal,” Aly rasped. “Matty, where’s –“
Matthew gave him a long suffering look. “Really? A bet?”
“One I’m gonna *win*.”
Matthew sighed, but pulled a thermometer from his jeans pocket. Aly stared at it, then at him.
“You were just holding it, huh?” he asked drily.
Matthew rolled his eyes, turned it on, and held it out expectantly. Aly sighed, but took it anyway, sticking it under his tongue and leaning back to wait.
It didn’t take long. The thermometer beeped, and he took it from his mouth, squinted down at it –
And felt the triumphant grin fall from his face. The screen of the thermometer was red, and displayed a bright 101.8°.
“Fuck.”
Clayton disappeared. Matthew took the thermometer gently from his hand, reading the screen.
“Think it’s time for some Tylenol,” Matthew said, voice calm, and more gentle than Aly wanted it to be. “And some juice.”
Aly thunked his head against the back of the sofa and scowled up at the ceiling. “Fuck.”
“I know, babe.” Matthew settled on the sofa beside him, setting one warm hand on his knee. Aly let himself list into his warmth, shivering as Matthew curled an arm around Alys shoulders and tucked him against his side. Soft lips pressed against his temple. “Being sick sucks.”
“I have to work tonight, what am I going to –“ he stopped, swallowed, closed his eyes. “Miriams gonna be pissed.”
He didn’t even hear the footsteps approach. Someone settled on his other side, the sofa depressing under weight. Aly opened his eyes, looked at the glass Clayton was holding out in one hand, the two pills in the other.
“Tylenol and peach juice,” Clayton said. “And I already called Miriam two hours ago, she ain’t pissed, but said she will be if you try to come in before next week.”
Of course he’d called her. And of course he’d known that they would end up here. Clayton was always so much smarter than he gave himself credit for. Matthew, too.
“Stay home and let us take care of you,” Matthew said softly. “Alright?”
Aly swallowed. His throat hurt, and the more he let himself sit, the more clear the ache of fever was, the pounding in his head. The tickle in his throat, the way his chest felt tight from suppressing coughs. “Guess I don’t have any other choice.”
Clayton shook his head. “Theres always a choice. It’dbe a stupid ass choice,” he added, “but still a choice.”
Aly snorted. “Right.” Reaching out, he took the glass, then the pills, swallowing them with peach juice.
“Didn’t think we had any peach juice in the house,” he rasped, raising an eyebrow at Clayton. They didn’t buy juice often, but when they did, it was the only kind he drank.
“We didn’t.” Matthew murmured. Clayton glared at him, but he was still talking. “Clay went out this morning, before you woke up.”
Oh. Well. Fuck.
It shouldn’t have made him want to cry, but it still did, a lump growing in his throat, eyes feeling hot. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Clayton shrugged. “Aint a big deal. Wanted to.”
And wasn’t it as simple as that. He wanted to take care of Aly, so he did. As had Matthew, both of them folding him into their care before he’d even noticed.
“Thank you.”
Clayton leaned in, pressed a kiss to Alys forehead. “No need to thank me. I got a pickup coming in this afternoon, but Matty’s gonna stay with you.”
“We have a season of Chicago Med to get through,” Matthew said. Clayton made a face, and Matthew pointed at him. “Not a word. You ain’t here to watch it anyway.”
“Its so fucking *bad*, Matt –“
“Not a *word*,” Aly and Matthew said in unison.
Clayton flipped them both the finger. “Fuckers. We’re watchin’ The Great British Bake Off when I get home though, I ain’t sittin’ through another hour of doctor what’s his face –“
“Clay I swear to God –“
Aly started laughing. And the he started coughing, dragging himself upright and leaning over as cough after cough rattled his burning lungs.
Someone took the glass of juice. Another hand landed gently on his back, started rubbing slow circles, and a voice murmured soft reassurances in his ear.
His hands were shaking when he finally settled back against Matthew, exhausted. Clayton was watching him too damn carefully, and Matthew held him like he was afraid he would break.
“Alright?” Clayton asked.
Aly nodded. “Sorry.”
Clayton shook his head. “Don’t need to be. Here - a drink might help.”
He took the juice back and drank dutifully. Then let Clayton take it and set it on the coffee table, let him and Matthew tuck a soft blanket carefully around him, let Matthew press a kiss to his head and Clayton press a hand to his cheek and let them care for him in the only way they knew how.
“I’ll be ok,” he mumbled to Matthew as Clayton slipped from the room, heading for his shop. “Don’t need to stay with me.”
“I know you will.” Matthew leaned his cheek against the top of Aly’s head, curled his arm a little tighter around him. “But I want to.”
And that – that was enough. In another day or two, he’d be better. But for now – for now he had one boyfriend to watch trashy tv with, and another to get him peach juice. And really, what more did he need?
So he nodded, and let himself lean a little heavier against Matthew. “Alright, love. If you say so.”
Matthew hummed. “I surely do.”