Sick for Christmas
‘Twas the morning before Christmas Eve and all through the loft, not a creature
was stirring except for Brian Kinney, who was in the bathroom heaving up his
guts. Brian groaned as he got up from the cold tile floor. He wiped at his mouth
and flushed the disgusting contents of his toilet away. He stuck his mouth under
the tap and sipped some water. He splashed water over his face before looking in
the mirror and seeing the horrific, pale, gaunt face that he barely recognized
as his own. He turned away quickly and headed for his bed. It was still dark
outside. He needed to lie down. He had an hour or so before he had to get up to
go to Kinnetik. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
*****
Brian turned over and reached for the portable phone on the bedside table.
“What?” he croaked in an angry tone.
“Um, are you coming in today, Boss?” Ted asked hesitantly.
“What the fuck time is it?” Brian demanded as he tried to focus on the alarm
clock. He didn’t remember it going off. His head was pounding and his stomach
rolling. He couldn’t remember when he had ever felt this bad.
“After nine,” Ted informed him. “We, um, were starting to get worried.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Brian replied trying to sit up. “Shit!” he gasped as a
wave of nausea hit him. He laid back down.
“What’s wrong?” Ted asked quickly and fearfully. He remembered all too well when
Brian was so sick during his radiation treatments.
“I feel like fuck,” Brian groaned.
“It’s not…?” Ted didn’t want to say that word.
“No,” Brian replied. “I think I have the flu. Gotta go,” he said suddenly,
throwing the phone onto the bed. He made a beeline for the toilet where he
deposited anything that was foolish enough to still be residing in his stomach.
Ted could hear some of what was going on before he hung up his phone. He knew he
needed to take action.
*****
Brian was curled into a fetal position dozing fitfully when the sound of the
loft door opening awoke him.
“He’s going to kill us,” a voice whispered.
Emmett.
“Ted said he’s sick. He needs our help.”
Michael.
“I bet he’s not so sick that he can’t pick up a dildo and bludgeon us to death,”
Emmett whispered.
“Brian would never hurt us.”
“Yes he would,” Brian called from the bedroom. It took most of the little
strength he had to make that statement sound threatening. And even then he
wasn’t sure how successful he had been, especially in the threatening
department.
“Brian, are you all right?” Michael rushed up the steps into the bedroom.
“Do I fucking look like I’m all right?” Brian groaned pulling the duvet up
around his head.
Michael shoved the duvet aside and laid the back of his hand on Brian’s
forehead. “Jeez, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so bad,” he observed.
“Thanks so much,” Brian snarked. “But it’s no worse than you’re going to look
when I get through with you,” Brian threatened. “What the fuck are you doing
here?”
“You’re burning up,” Michael said removing his hand. “Emm, bring up the stuff we
got at the drugstore.”
“I asked you a question,” Brian snarled.
“Ted called us.”
“Fucking Theodore.”
“Um, is it safe to come up?” Emmett said uncertainly from the bottom of the
steps. He held a plastic bag labeled CVS. It looked like it was full of all
kinds of shit that Brian did not want to see.
“Of course it is,” Michael snapped. “Come on up.”
Emmett moved cautiously up the steps. “Hello, Brian,” he tentatively managed to
say.
“I’m not in the mood for pleasantries.”
“Emm, find the flu medicine that we bought,” Michael instructed.
Emmett obediently turned the bag upside down and a cascade of boxes and bottles
fell onto the bed. Brian glared at them.
“What the fuck is all that shit?” he demanded.
“Medicine,” Michael replied as he rummaged through the pile looking for a
certain box. “We weren’t sure what was wrong with you, so we bought … lots of
different things.”
“Who floated you the loan?” Brian asked snidely as he took in the array of over
the counter remedies that littered the top of his bed.
“Don’t be silly,” Michael chastised.
“When have you ever known me to be silly?” Brian demanded.
“Here’s what I was looking for,” Michael said triumphantly as he pulled a box
called Theraflu out of the conglomeration of remedies on the bed.
“What is that shit?” Brian asked skeptically.
“Emm, go boil the kettle. It makes a drink of some kind,” Michael explained as
he read the instructions on the box. Emmett scurried down the steps, apparently
glad to be out of Brian’s presence.
“I hate shit like that,” Brian said petulantly.
“It will make you feel better.”
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s good for you.”
“Go way,” Brian moaned pulling the covers over his head as a wave of nausea hit
him once again.
“You need help, Brian. Let us help you, or…”
“Or what?”
“I’ll call ma.”
“Ass.”
“So, do as you’re told,” Michael informed his friend.
“Give me the fucking medicine,” Brian griped.
“Emm, is the water hot?”
“Coming right up.”
There was a knock on the loft door.
“I’ll get it,” Michael said as he left the bedroom.
Brian turned over and pulled the duvet back over his head.
“Kiddo, what’s wrong?” Debbie asked as she rushed into the bedroom and sat on
the side of the bed. She pulled the duvet away from Brian’s face and placed her
hand on his brow just as Michael had done. “You’re burning up.”
“Sick,” Brian moaned.
“Damn right you are. Michael, heat up that soup I brought.”
“Can’t eat,” Brian protested. “Won’t stay down.”
“My soup will.”
“Here’s some medicine we bought,” Michael said as he came up the steps with a
big mug of the Theraflu.
“Don’t want it,” Brian groaned.
“You will drink that, and when my soup is heated up, you will eat that too,”
Debbie advised him in no uncertain terms. “And it will stay down.”
“You can’t guarantee that,” Brian replied petulantly.
“I know how good my soup is, and you need something to sustain you. Sit up and
sip this,” Debbie ordered taking the mug of hot liquid from her son.
Brian did his best to sit up. Michael helped him, arranging some pillows behind
his back and head. Brian took a small taste of the Theraflu when Debbie stuck it
in his face. His stomach rolled but he didn’t throw it up.
“A little more,” Debbie urged. Brian took another sip. “One more, kiddo.”
Brian shook his head, but when Debbie held the mug to his lips, he gave in and
drank a bit more. He let his head fall back on the pillows and let out a sigh.
“Emmett, is that soup ready?” Debbie called to the kitchen.
“Another few minutes,” Emmett replied. “I’m heating it on the stove not in the
microwave. It keeps more nutrients that way.”
“When did Emmett become a health food guru?” Debbie asked Michael.
Brian snorted at the ridiculous question. “Emmett – a guru?” he asked.
“Hey,” Emmett objected from the kitchen, “I heard that. I’m making your soup,
and I’m not above spitting in it.”
Brian made gagging noises, and Debbie swatted him and chuckled. Brian realized
that he must be feeling a little better since he wasn’t throwing up, and he
could actually carry on a conversation.
“Here’s your soup,” Emmett said as he carried a bowl up to the bedroom.
“Did you spit in it?” Brian asked warily.
“I’ll never tell,” Emmett said with a serene smile.
“I’m not eating it,” Brian declared. Debbie gave Emmett the evil eye.
“Okay, okay,” Emmett said grudgingly. “Of course I didn’t spit in it. It’s fine.
I wouldn’t do that to you … when you’re sick,” he qualified.
Brian snorted. Debbie took the soup and started feeding it to Brian. In spite of
himself, Brian savored mouthfuls of the hot tasty soup. It had been a long time
since he had eaten anything. The soup tasted good and seemed to clear his head.
After several spoonfuls, Brian turned his head away. “I can’t … enough,” he said
wearily. “I need to lie down.”
“Okay, kiddo,” Debbie agreed. “You did good, now rest. Sleep is the best thing
for you.” She stood up and pulled the duvet up around Brian’s neck as he
slithered back down into the bed. He closed his eyes as Debbie kissed his cheek.
“Feel better,” she whispered. “We’ll be here if you need anything. Tomorrow’s
Christmas Eve, and we want you all better for Christmas Day with Gus.”
Brian nodded and immediately drifted off. Debbie motioned for Michael and Emmett
to follow her down the steps.
*****
“Um,” Brian moaned as he felt the bed move when someone sat down beside him.
“Michael?”
“It most certainly isn’t Michael,” a familiar voice replied.
Brian rolled over and looked into concerned blue eyes. “How…? You shouldn’t have
come. I’m sick.”
“I love you, sick or not,” Justin replied with a warm smile.
“What are you doing here?”
“I got a call from Ted.”
“Ted?”
“Yeah, he figured out a while ago that all those trips to New York City were for
more than business.”
“Fucking Theodore,” Brian reacted, but there was no real anger in his voice. “Do
they all know?”
“Probably. But it doesn’t matter.”
“Where’s Deb and Michael….?”
“They left when I got here. I got a flight as soon as I talked to Ted.”
“You should have stayed in New York. I don’t want to make you sick.”
“You don’t sound so bad. I thought you were on death’s door.”
“I thought so too,” Brian said. “I never get sick, but I was puking up
everything. The porcelain god in the bathroom is my new best friend.”
“Michael won’t like that,” Justin chuckled. Brian laughed too. “You must be
feeling better if you can laugh,” Justin observed.
“Yeah, I do feel better.”
“Must have been Debbie’s chicken soup. She said there’s a big container of it in
the fridge.”
“It was tasty, but don’t heat it in the microwave.”
“Why?” Justin asked with a frown.
“I’ll explain later,” Brian said with a big yawn.
“You should sleep some more,” Justin told him.
“That’s all I do is sleep,” Brian griped.
“Best thing for you.” Justin started to get up from the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll sleep on the couch so I don’t disturb you.”
“I’d sleep better with you here,” Brian said sounding like a little boy. Justin
leaned down to kiss Brian for his sweet comment. “No,” Brian said firmly turning
his head away. You’ll catch what I’ve got.”
“Okay, I won’t kiss you, but I will sleep here. And tomorrow I’ll give you the
best blowjob you’ve ever had … that is, if your dick isn’t infected.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my dick,” Brian averred. His eyes drooped and
closed.
“Somehow I knew that,” Justin chuckled.
“We can still have a decent Christmas with Gus…”
“Yes we can, as soon as you feel better.”
“I already do,” Brian mumbled before he fell asleep.
Justin shucked his clothes and slid in behind Brian wrapping his body around
Brian’s.
“It’s going to be a great Christmas, because we’re together,” Justin whispered
as he too drifted off to sleep … a vision of sugar plum fairies filled each of
their minds.
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