Band Oneshots

Sick day (Tom Keifer X Fred Coury)

Sorry is not that good compared to the other I've posted recently.

Eric had called Tom late at night demanding he come and get Fred. Fred was sick, a flu or something an Eric was at his wits end with the man.

"He's fucking driving me up the walls Tom. I got him medicine, I made him soup! Nothing stops his constant whining and bitching! You need to take him off my hands before I strangle him! Or  smother him with his own bloody pillow!" "Yeah yeah, sure I'll be right over."

When he got there, a bundled up Fred was shoved out the door. A sniffling soft voice whispered, "Tom?" "Yeah, come on I'm gonna take care of you, come on."

The whining that Eric was taking bout started immediately once Tom got Fred into his car. The music was too loud, it was too cold, no too hot, roll down the window, no fucker roll it back up! Stop driving like a maniac! Tom took it all in stride.

Nobody was their best while sick. The misery, pain, discomfort could bring out the worst in anymore, an of course Fred was no different. Poor Eric, even though he tried, was not equipped to handle the most neediest of patients, what Fred was very much so. With Jeff saying no way in hell, Tom was the only one left, Tom to look after him.

Finally they arrived at Tom's apartment. "It's too many steps," Fred whined. "I'll carry you up then." Bridal style, Tom carried his sick bandmate up the flight of stairs into his apartment, gently setting Fred down on the couch he had already made up as a bed for his friend.

"My throat hurt," Fred mutters. Tom made some tea. Fred didn't like the tea, but Tom didn't have anything else so Fred cursed him before finally accepting the tea after several more complaints. He seemed more appeased by the bowl of cough drops Tom presented.

Before they had left Eric's place, he had given Tom a plastic bag full of cold and flu meds and remedies, in which Tom was extremely grateful for, making sure he did not having to make a late night dash to the nearest convenience stores that were still open after 11pm.

"Everything hurts so much, Eric was being a bitch an wouldn't give me up any weed or co--" "No fucking way man, you've been clean for months. I'll give you some Tylenol." Tom cut him off. Fred gave him the dirtiest of looks as if Tom had insulted his mother and grandmother, even muttering a "motherfucker" under his breath.

Tom of course heard.

"...and I'll run you a hot bath, that helps with the muscle aches." He still looked furious underneath his mountain of blankets. His tune changed once Tom led him to the bathroom after filling the bath with steaming hot water with plenty of suds. Neither were shy about being naked in front of the other, privacy was never an issue between them.

"Oh," Fred sighed sinking into the hot water. "Feel good?" "Yeah." Tom let Fred soak alone for a few minutes until he heard Fred calling for him.

"Could you wash my hair? Please?" Suddenly there was a please? An oh how could Tom refuse, especially with the puppy dog eyes Fred was making at him! He didn't, he couldn't. Fred looked so pitiful submerged up to his neck in the bath, looking up at him with big sad puppy dog eyes. His hair did look greasy, probably hadn't washed it in a few days. "Sure."

He got the tiniest of smiles. Tom removed his shirt so it didn't get soaked, an he was soon wet to his elbows, scrubbing Fred's hair, massaging his scalp in the process. "That feels so good," Fred moaned. Oh. Tom felt his cheeks heat up.

"Yeah?" "Mhm, can you keep doing it please?" Tom continued to gentle massage Fred's head. Fred nearly passed out in the tub. Okay he was done, squeaky clean, relaxed, and hopefully ready to sleep.

His towels were not plush or fluffy, and soon the quiet content Fred in the tub was replaced by a whining, shivering wet menace. "Fuck I'm so cold Tom! TOOM!!!" "I'll be right back, I have some sweat pants you can wear somewhere, gimme a second!"

While Tom searched for the pair of elusive sweat pants, Fred made a dash for his bed. A bed that was warm. "Fred what the Hell? You gotta sleep on the couch!" "Bed's more comfy," Fred claimed from underneath Tom's comforter and bedsheets, courtesy of an ex-girlfriend who required real bedding not a sleeping bag. Fred refused to vacate, an so Tom resigned himself to sleeping on the couch while watching late night television.

Of course after drifting off, he heard Fred weakly calling for him, followed by a string of wet coughs. So up he got, fetching water, more cough drops, and that's when he noticed Fred was sweating. He was feverish. Touching his forehead and cheeks, Tom could tell Fred was burning real hot. More Tylenol was in order. Getting Fred, now bit delirious to swallow the pills was a whole process. "Gotta swallow these, it will make you feel better." "Nuh uh." "Why not?"

"....."

"Come on Fred, please?" Sweet Jesus Christ he felt like a parent trying to get their kid to eat some goddamn broccoli or some shit. "Mmmh your hand feels good." "Fred please take the god dam pill!" After some finagling, Fred took his medicine, before settling down. As Fred seemed to doze off, Tom gently brushed aside some tangled hair from Fred's face. Poor guy, he looked sweet now, but goddamn he was so frustrating to deal with over the last couple of hours.

"Tom?" Fred opened his eyes. "Shh just go to sleep." "Can you hold me?" Tom didn't know how to exactly respond to such a request. "Please?" Well he did say please.

Tom slowly crawled over Fred, sliding under the covers, and pulling a shivering Fred's back against his chest, wrapping an arm around the man who immediately curled and nestled as close to Tom as possible. "mmmh you feel nice n' warm," Fred murmured sleepily. "Okay now go to sleep."

Tom woke a bit confused wondering why there was a very warm body snuggled up against him until he remembered Eric calling last night, picking up Fred, bathing his sick friend, who rather than returned to the couch Tom had prepared for him, invaded his bed, and demanded to be held before both fell asleep.

Thankfully Fred's fever broke sometime over night, and the drummer slept fairly undisturbed the entire night.

Tom reached over to feel Fred's forehead, it was warm but much cooler than last night. Good. Fred sighed, and wiggled around so his head now rested on Tom's chest. Trapped underneath Fred, Tom laid there until he drifted back to sleep.

"Tom?" It was the following sneeze that woke the singer up. "Sorry," Fred was wiping his nose, looking bashfully down at Tom. Fred was sitting up, looking much better than last night but still sickly. "Feeling better?" "Yeah." "I'll go make us something hot to drink." "Okay sure, but then can we keep cuddling in bed?"

Tom's cheeks turned pink an Fred was grinning. "Please?" Tom sighed, "Okay but you better not get snot all over me!" "I'll try not to." Fred remained needy as ever, complaining frequently, but once Tom spooned him, Fred suddenly became quiet and complacent. After a few days, Fred was much better even if he continued to deny his recovery.

"Fred...are you just saying you're still sick so I'll cuddle you?" "...No why the fuck would you say that?!"

Tom smirked an Fred continued to deny it, but he still got his cuddles anyways.