For all of you who don't know, a man flu is when a guy gets sick and he just exaggerates his symptoms so much and basically whines and whinges loads haha
The shrill ringing of the phone rips you out of your sweet, sweet dreams at an ungodly hour. The sun has barely appeared yet in the morning sky, as you fumble for your phone on your night stand. "Hmph?" you manage to grunt into the phone, your eyes still yet having to open. "Babeeeee, i'm sick" a horse, scratchy voice you vaguely identify as your boyfriend's sounds on the other line. "Beau?" you ask, wondering what on earth possessed him to inform you he is sick at 6:30 am on a Saturday. "Will you come over please?" he begs, sounding tired and exhausted. You can relate to that. "Beau, it's fucking 6:30 am!" you mumble with agitation, sinking back into your pillow. "I've been up since three this morning, please babe, I NEED you, i feel awful!" he whinges pathetically, like a child. You have to dig deep, but eventually you tap into some sympathy and get up, even bringing some chocolates from the pantry for Beau.
You carefully slip into the Brooks house. You are here so often, you don't even knock anymore, you feel comfortable enough just to walk on in. "Oh (y/n)! Thank God you're here, he will not stop complaining, will you PLEASE shut him up, i'm going back to bed!" you are greeted by Gina, who looks worn out and sleep deprived. "I got you covered" you assure her, tip-toeing into Beau's room. He is lying on his bed, his duvet twisted strangely, entangled with his body and limbs. He himself looks a bit pale and clammy, but it's hard to tell under the darkness of the room. "Hey baby, how are you?" you whisper, sitting next to him. He opens his eyes drowsily, as you stroke his cheek, noticing he feels a bit warm. "I feel like shit. My stomach hurts so bad. Am I hot? Do I have a fever?" he immediately asks. "I don't think so, you're just a little warm. Sounds like you have the flu" you tell him, you yourself being very familiar with the flu, having many younger siblings who like to put their germ infect hands everywhere and spread their pesty diseases. "No, it's not the flu, it's something else. I feel so horrible, ugh, my head is pounding. I think maybe I should go to the doctors" he groans, tossing and turning in bed. You have to resist making a snarky comment or rolling your eyes. What a little drama queen, you'd think he was near death the way he is acting. However, you know what you can be like on your period, and Beau is always (or at least tries to be) helpful, so you will extend the same courtesy to him. "I'm sorry to hear that, babe. Do you want me to make you something to eat?" you ask, scratching his back soothingly. "No, I'll probably be sick" he mumbles. "Just lie here with me." You don't object to that, snuggling beside him in his bed. You turn on the TV as a quiet background noise, while letting Beau put his head on your stomach and letting you run your hands through his thick, black hair. He eventually doses off and awakens an hour or so later. You spend pretty much all day with him, making soup and massaging his back and getting him hot water bottles, fetching him his laptop and giving him the inside scoop to all celebrity drama at the moment. You can tell he is feeling better each hour you are there, but he doesn't say anything, probably enjoying the attention you are giving him. "Are you a bit better?" you ask him when the day is over and the sun has long since sunken. "I'll survive" he sighs dramatically, making you chuckle. "I'm still sick though, will you spend the night?" he pleads. "Why not?" you reply, settling back down with him., knowing tomorrow, he'll probably be cured of his mystical disease aka a typical case of the man flu......
