And They Were Roommates

Stay (Bean)

Bean loved Saturdays. Saturdays meant sleeping in, no classes, no worrying about school tomorrow, and gym time. It'd been two days since he had last gone with Lucas, which meant that he was going to go back today. While Lucas certainly hadn't been the best gym buddy, Bean had been happy to have a friend there that he at least knew would call an ambulance if he got hurt, or something. So, after getting dressed and ready to go to the gym, he wandered back into the bedroom to wake up Lucas. He was pretty easy to wake up.

He kicked his mattress. "Hey, Spiderman, get up."

Lucas coughed and rolled to face Bean. His blanket was pulled up to his chin so Bean could only see his face, which was flushed.

"How are you feeling?" Bean asked. Yesterday, Lucas had been non-stop complaining about how much his whole body hurt from the gym. Bean knew from years of exercise and injuries that the best way to relieve soreness was to warm those muscles up again and stretch, but he knew it would take some convincing to get Lucas to do that. So, step one: act like he didn't know that Lucas would be in even worse pain on day two of rest.

"Really shitty," Lucas responded. His voice was raspier than it usually was in the mornings, which had Bean's eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"What hurts? Just your muscles?" Bean asked, sitting on the edge of Lucas's bed and setting his bag down.

Lucas swallowed, but it looked like it took a lot of effort. "Literally everything. It's like my head and my throat and my stomach now, too. But my muscles feel all weak but all sore at the same time and it --" he paused to swallow again " -- sucks."

Bean frowned and put his hand on Lucas's cheek. "You're really hot."

"Thanks."

"I meant warm. Do we have a thermometer?" Bean stood and went to go check in the bathroom, already doubting that they had thought to buy one. While he was partially right, he did find a digital meat thermometer in one of the kitchen drawers, which they had bought a week ago when they had cooked a turkey for dinner with Manny and Delilah. Since it measured in single degrees, Bean didn't see a reason why it wouldn't work.

"Open," he said, and when Lucas complied, he stuck the thermometer in his mouth. Normally Lucas would have made fun of Bean's idea, but he stayed silent. Whether it was the stick in his mouth or whatever Lucas had, it worried Bean nonetheless.

The thermometer beeped. 102.

"You have a fever," Bean kicked his bag closer to his bed, deciding he couldn't go to the gym today. He lifted up the meat thermometer. "Also you're undercooked."

Lucas laughed weakly at that. "Did your dirty gym get me sick?"

"It's not my dirty gym," Bean protested, "it's Pitt's dirty gym. And probably. You've probably just got a weak immune system."

Lucas rolled over to shove his face into his pillow, so his next words were muffled: "I feel really sick."

Bean sighed sympathetically. "You're going to have to be--"

Lucas suddenly tried to stand up, hand over his mouth, but couldn't keep his balance. Bean stood up next to him to help.

"Bathroom?" Bean asked, worried.

Lucas nodded. Bean frowned deeper as they started to walk. Even if it had been Lucas that had asked to come along with him, and it had been the gym that had gotten him sick, Bean still felt bad.

"So Lucas got the flu, what do you want me to do about it?" Manny asked from the other end of the phone, sounding exhausted but forthcoming.

"Help me," Bean sighed. "I have no idea how to take care of sick people. I'm an only child, and I've never taken care of a sick person in my life."

"Really?" Manny asked. "Didn't you take care of me at some point?"

"You never got sick freshman year," Bean clarified, "and then Delilah always took care of you." He shuffled around the CVS aisle. After a half an hour of sitting with Lucas in the bathroom, waiting for nothing, he had forced Lucas to lay on their $40 couch and left in search of medicine. He figured Advil would be a good one, for pain relief and fever reducer, but he wasn't really sure what else to do for Lucas. So he called Manny for help, knowing that Manny had three younger siblings and was also majoring in early education, which meant he'd dealt with sick children before. Sick Lucas couldn't be that different from sick children.

"Help me," Bean pleaded again, drawing out the "e" in "me."

"Ok," Manny relented, obviously amused at Bean's antics, "you're right that Advil is probably good, but other than that just like Gatorade. Something with electrolytes. You need to keep him hydrated and at least somewhat fed. But I wouldn't overload his body with medicine, he might just end up throwing it back up."

"Ok. Thanks." Bean picked up the Advil and wandered towards the coolers. "I'll just wing it from now on, then."

"Yep," Manny agreed. "Keep me updated. Lila will probably want to know how he is, but she's out with some friends today."

"Wait, so you're alone?"

"Yeah, but I have an essay due. I'm not coming over unless you really need the help."

Bean groaned. "Fine. Thanks anyway."

"Cool. Bye, Bean."

"Bye." Bean hung up the phone and started contemplating what flavor of Gatorade he should choose for Lucas.

"It tastes weird," Lucas said after sipping the Gatorade.

Bean frowned. "Cause you're sick? Or cause you don't like that flavor."

Lucas smiled. "Cause I'm sick. I like red."

"It probably has a name."

"Red."

"Red." Bean stood from where he had been sitting on Lucas's bed and went to leave.

Lucas hummed. "No, don't leave me alone, I'm dying."

Bean scrunched his nose. "You're going to get me sick, then I'll die, too."

"You're probably already sick," Lucas pointed out. "Stay."

Bean sat back down on Lucas's bed, leaning back against the wall when Lucas pulled his feet toward his chest.

"Are you feeling any better?" Bean asked.

Lucas shrugged. "Yeah. But I think it's because I'm more awake now. Still feel like shit."

"That tracks," Bean replied, thankful that Lucas could at least talk without sounding like he was gargling nails. Now it sounded like he was only gargling thumbtacks.

"Do you have any idea how long until this clears up?" Lucas asked, sipping his Gatorade again.

"Hell no," Bean answered.

Lucas looked confused. "But you were a bio major."

"Yeah, but I was never on the pre-med track. And I wasn't planning to be a virologist, or whatever."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why were you never on the pre-med track?"

Bean tugged at one of the strings on his hoodie. "My dad's a doctor."

"And why does that make you not want to be one?"

Bean tied the strings together in a bow and pulled his hood tight around his head. "I don't want to be like my dad."

Lucas was quiet for a second. "I don't know your dad, but if it helps, from the way you just talked about him, I bet you're nothing like him. You're too much of a sweetheart."

"Am not," Bean protested, and looked up at Lucas, eyes wide.

Lucas giggled. "You look like a puppy."

"Your lips are all red," Bean retorted.

Lucas didn't seem concerned. "Does it look good?"

Bean thought for a moment. "Yeah. I guess it does."