The Cure for the Common Cold, part the second

[fuyu]

Drake took a moment to wonder, that evening, just what the hell he was doing in front of JJ's apartment with a bag full of assorted cold medication. Then, taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

There was no response for a while. Worried, Drake knocked again, harder. Still no answer. A third time - still silent.

Just as Drake was about to force entry, the door opened.

"....Holy shit," Drake said before he could think.

JJ's hair was uncombed and sticking out at every angle. His face was ashen, with dark rings under his half-focused eyes. He looked every bit as sick as Dee had said.

"Dammit, Drake, I'd just gotten to sleep," JJ moaned.

He was so stuffed up and so out of it that it came out slurred and sounding like, "D'bid Draig, 'd jz gddn t'sleeb."

"Let me in. I've got medicine." He pushed past the unresisting JJ and set his bag down on an endtable. The living room looked comfortable and lived-in, with two couches at right angles to each other and a TV facing them. The TV was on what looked like some kind of cheesy drama.

"I have no idea what's going on," JJ said with a sniffle, closing the door and waving vaguely at the TV.

As he made his way across the living room, Drake could see why it had taken him so long to answer the door. He was walking very slowly, leaning on every stationary object between the door and his destination for support as he went. After he sat on the larger sofa and crawled under a thick fleece blanket that had been stretched over it, he entered a fit of horrible, racking coughs. Drake winced in deep sympathy.

"Jesus, JJ, you tried to come to work like this?"

"I felt better this morning," JJ mumbled.

Drake shook his head in disbelief, rooting through his bag. "From what Dee was telling me, that's like saying Lake Erie is less wet than the Mediterranean."

JJ didn't actually say anything, simply pulling the blanket up to his ears and curling up under it. Drake pulled a bottle of Nyquil out of his bag and pocketed a box of Sudafed just in case, then sat down at the other end of the couch.

"You seriously look like shit, JJ," he said, eying the little ball of misery under the blankets with concern as he opened the bottle.

"I feel like shit," JJ returned, and coughed again.

"Well, you're going to have to sit up for a second," Drake warned, filling the Nyquil cap. JJ shuffled slowly up to a sitting position and blinked vaguely at him.

"Oh, good," he said thickly as he focused on the medicine. "I was going to buy some of that this morning."

"Do you have no cold medicine at all in this apartment? Here."

JJ took the cap in a slightly shaky hand and swallowed its contents quickly, making a face as he handed it back. He shuffled back under the blanket without answering Drake's question. Drake smiled and shook the little bundle of detective.

"Hey, wouldn't you rather sleep in your bed?"

JJ mumbled unintelligibly through the blanket.

"I have no idea what you just said, but c'mon." Tugging the blanket off of JJ, he hauled the sniper up to his feet, eliciting a weak protest. He draped JJ's arm over his shoulder and slipped one hand around the other man's waist. JJ's skin felt a little too hot, and Drake frowned. "Let's go. Where's your bedroom?"

"Down the hall, first door to the right..." JJ's voice trailed off blearily. Drake made his way to the indicated door as fast as he could with an ill JJ in tow.

JJ's bedroom was, Drake noted with some amusement, as badly decorated as JJ himself was badly dressed. His partner did not seem to understand the concept of 'color coordination'. It was actually kind of cute.

As Drake pulled back the covers on JJ's bed, JJ turned his head away and started coughing again; Drake had never realized that it could be such a nasty, wet sound. He stood there awkwardly, JJ still hanging on his shoulder, feeling the way his partner's body shook with every cough. As JJ worked through the fit, all Drake could think about was how much he wished the kid would get better soon. This was worrisome.

"Come on. Bed." Drake shrugged out from under JJ's arm, and the sniper sat down heavily, crawling under the covers. He let out a quiet, miserable-sounding little moan. Drake sighed and swept JJ's hair back out of his face. The touch confirmed his earlier suspicions; his partner was really burning up.

"Poor baby," Drake said quietly. "Is it okay if I stay here tonight? I mean, I don't want to leave you alone like this."

"'S just a cold," JJ whispered. "I'll be fine..."

"Maybe you will, but you look like death warmed over and you sound miserable, so I'm going to stay over and take care of you. No argument, okay? Lemme go get a wet washcloth or something. I'll be right back."

JJ made a little sound of acknowledgement, and Drake slipped out of the room. His first trip was to the living room, to turn off the TV and grab the bag of cold medicine. That was followed by a few moments' wandering through JJ's apartment looking for a bathroom.

Drake found himself memorizing the apartment. JJ had obviously been renting the place for some time; everything inside seemed to have molded itself around him. It fit him perfectly. Trying to find his way in a place that felt so utterly tailored to JJ was bizarrely comfortable, and just as bizarrely depressing.

Absently, he wondered if meandering through your sick partner's apartment in search of a washcloth was supposed to inspire deep thoughts.

Finding a bathroom at last, he snagged a washcloth and, when a shorter search for some kind of basin proved fruitless, simply ran the cloth under the tap and carried it to JJ's room.

JJ was half asleep when Drake arrived, stirring and making a small noise as Drake placed the damp, folded cloth on his forehead. Setting the bag of medicine on the table, Drake shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, sitting next to JJ on the too-large bed.

"That feel better?"

"Mmmhmm." JJ scooted a little further under the covers. "Thank you."

"Least I can do, right?" Drake leaned back on one of the massively oversized pillows and watched him. After a while, he reached out and ruffled JJ's already unkempt hair. "Now, you'd better get over this."

"I will." JJ sighed, stretched, and settled back down. Drake stroked absently at his hair, watching the smaller man's pale face. JJ opened his eyes and turned his head slightly under Drake's hand to look at him.

JJ's eyes were bluer, Drake thought, than they had any right to be.

Not breaking the eye contact, JJ let a tiny little smile onto his face. Something inside Drake twisted and settled.

Before taking any time to think about it, Drake found himself leaning down over JJ, bracing one arm on the mattress on JJ's other side, his eyes sliding shut. There was a rustle of cloth as he closed in.

His lips met pajama flannel.

Eyes snapping open, Drake jerked back in surprise. "JJ?"

The rustle of cloth had been JJ bringing his arm out from under the flannel and putting it between Drake's mouth and his. Drake was just about to get very annoyed about that - JJ could kiss him as much as he damn well pleased, but wouldn't let Drake do the same thing back?! - when JJ moved his arm away from his mouth and spoke.

"I'm sorry, Drake," he said, and his voice - hoarse from coughing, thick with congestion - sounded very small and pathetic. "I don't want you to get sick too."

Drake opened his mouth, ready to protest and bluster, but finally shut it and sighed, rolling back to his previous sitting position. "Fair enough. Dammit."

"But, Drake?"

As Drake turned to face him again, JJ took his hand and squeezed. Drake blinked, staring dumbly first at their linked hands, and then at JJ's face.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you." And JJ smiled, warm and genuine and bright despite his sickness, and closed his eyes, snuggling back down into the covers, still holding Drake's hand.

He fell asleep that way. Somewhat later, Drake did too; he couldn't quite find it in him to take his hand away.

-

His hand was empty when he woke up.

Blinking and stretching slowly, Drake turned to look at JJ's side of the bed. It was vacant, the covers thrown carelessly back. He blinked, frowning, and got up, not stopping to put his shoes back on as he left the room.

The TV was on. Stepping into the living room, he saw JJ curled up on the couch, watching whatever was on - some kind of cartoon, it seemed - and eating a pop-tart. Drake had to grin.

"JJ?"

"Oh! Good morning, Drake!" JJ turned to smile and wave at his partner.

JJ did not look like a man who had been miserably ill the night before. His face was still a little pale, he still sounded a little congested, and he still hadn't combed his hair, but he was smiling brightly and looked worlds better than he had last night. Dee's voice and the phrase 'obnoxiously chipper and healthy' popped into Drake's head.

"Feeling better?" Drake asked, unnecessarily.

"Much better. Thank you for coming over," JJ said, still smiling. "I think it helped a lot."

Drake laughed, sitting down beside JJ on the couch. "You're not saying I cured you, are you?"

"No, not cured -" JJ quickly covered his mouth as he started coughing. It didn't sound half as bad as it had before. "- because I'm still sick. But I do think it helped. You're too good to me, Drake."

Drake looked up at the ceiling in embarrassment. "Hey, I didn't do that much. I gave you some Nyquil and a wet cloth."

JJ started to say something, then just laughed. "You know perfectly well that's not all you did, but I'll leave it at that."

There was an awkward silence, which Drake hurried to fill. "So, now that you're feeling better, are you coming in to work today?"

"I was thinking about it -" JJ coughed again. "-except I'm still coughing and stuffed up, obviously, and I feel kind of dizzy when I stand up, so I think I'll stay home and sleep the rest of this off. I'll come in tomorrow, though, okay?"

"Alright, that's fine. I'd rather you do that anyway. Are you going to be okay on your own today?"

JJ grinned. "I'm a big boy, Drake, I've been living alone for years now. I'll be fine."

"You know what I meant," Drake said sourly.

"I know. I'll be fine, I really do feel a lot better." Abruptly, with no warning, JJ uncurled, scooted forward, and wrapped his arms around Drake, snuggling into his shoulder.

"JJ? I have to go get ready, I am going to work today," Drake reminded him, though he was half tempted not to.

"I know." JJ held on a little longer, giving a long, contented sigh. Just before he let go, he lifted his head to brush his lips against Drake's cheek. "Feel free to come over again tonight, if you want to."

On his way to the bedroom, Drake stopped and smiled. "You know, I just might."


owari ^_^


[12/23/03 - some editing throughout both parts of fic. also, fic is now titled. ^^]