Jack hates being sick. He hates the way his head swims when he opens and closes his eyes. He hates the way his skin feels hot and dry when he puts a hand to his forehead, but his palms are cold and clammy. He hates the way the world lists left and right when he stands up too fast, and how sneezing makes his entire head explode.
But if he has to be an invalid, he loves that Alex is willing to take care of him.
Alex is like his mom…only sexier.
Jack will regret that thought when he gets well, he decides.
Per doctor’s orders, Alex forces Jack to spend the day sitting on the sofa, wrapped in one of the quilts Alex made him, watching Pirates of the Caribbean on loop while Alex fusses over him taking his temperature, giving him his medication, keeping his fever down.
Jack looks down at the elegant China cup that Alex puts down on the coffee table in front of him and frowns at the rapidly darkening liquid.
“What…what is that?” he asks, eyes focusing and unfocusing at random intervals as he peers at the contents of his cup.
“You know what that is babe,” Alex says with a smile and an immense amount of patience. “It’s tea.”
“Ugh!” Jack sticks out his tongue and shoos the cup away with weak waves from his fingers. “Be gone with your leaf water. I need something strong…like coffee. Espresso.”
“Yeah, no,” Alex says, pouring a dollop of honey into Jack's tea and stirring carefully, trying not to clatter the cup too loudly, mindful of Jack's pounding headache. “Coffee is not going to go well with those steroids Dr. Fuentes prescribed. Besides, you need some sleep.” Alex scolding kissing him softly on his forehead.
“Then bring me some rum,” Jack says, raising his arm in an attempt to channel Captain Jack Sparrow but giggling instead.
“I don’t care how often you watch that movie, Jack, you’re not a pirate,” Alex says, his patience wearing thin after the twenty times he’s already been called matey and wench, and more than a little tired of hearing Jack shout Arrgh!.
“I still want rum,” Jack pouts.
“I’m not getting you rum,” Alex repeats, hand on his hips “It’s either tea or broth, but I’m warning you, the broth is thin.”
Jack cocks an eyebrow. “How thin?” he asks. “Think water,” Alex says with finality. Jack frowns.
“Ugh…” he moans again, lower lip trembling, not at all thrilled by his choices. “Why do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you,” Alex explains with a worn-out sigh. “Whatever you put in your mouth has to be bland and thin or we’ll be seeing it again.”
“Well, I don’t want it.” Jack ducks down under his blanket like a spoiled child, covering up his entire body except for his face.
Alex looks down at Jack and shakes his head, way more exhausted than he’s letting on. Alex isn’t too fond of playing nursemaid to a competent adult, so Jack is lucky that he’s adorable.
Alex crouches down low in front of Jack, catching his feverish gaze.
“If you drink your tea, I’ll rub vapo-rub on your chest,” Alex says in a singsong way, trying to tempt Jack out from his quilted cocoon.
“Only if it’s not too much trouble,” Jack says softly, looking up at Alex through thick black lashes and bleary eyes.
Alex presses a kiss to Jack’s forehead, wincing at how hot he is, knowing they still have a while before his fever breaks.
“I’m glad I didn’t have to twist your arm,” Alex says with a fond chuckle, standing and heading back to the kitchen for the broth.
“Thank ye, matey,” Jack crows after him, emerging from his quilt.
“Still not a pirate, babe.”
