✨ Oneshots ✨

Someone Saved My Life Tonight - Elton John and Bernie Taupin (platonic, sick)

Of course, I had to do another sick oneshot.. 

Also, happy birthday to sweet_painted_lady ! I thought you'd like an Elton oneshot ;)

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1977

"Uggghh," Elton moaned dramatically — more loudly than was necessary.

"Why am I like this.." He sighed, laying stretched out on the sofa.

He was, in fact, like so because he'd caught a cold.

The singer didn't have the effort to get up and even put on music, or eat, or drink - nothing at all. Luckily, there was a telephone nearby.

-

Elton rang a friend, who said they'd love to come over, but couldn't. Busy or whatever.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. He tried to get up, but was struck by inertia.

"Oh, just come inside already!"  He called when the knock repeated. "Can't get it, and that's only making my head ache."

The door opened gently, and the man who stepped inside was none other than Bernie, his flatmate.

"Sorry to make your head hurt. I went out, and then I realised I should come home. I've been getting groceries." 

-

"Oh, that's all right. I'm dying over here." The singer sniffed from congestion.

"You are not." Bernie smiled and rolled his eyes, putting away food.

"I am too," Elton argued playfully. He enjoyed it though, smiling. It gave him something fun to do.

Bernie was silent for a moment. "...I'm making you soup." 

"Don't want any soup." 

"Oh, don't be such a child. You like soup." Bernie was playing along with the game, knowing it helped more than medicine. 

"Especially not chicken soup," Elton added a bit more cheerfully, with a cheeky grin.

"Chicken soup is good for colds!" He laughed.

There was a moment of silence, before, "...what about vegetarians?" And Bernie sighed.

-

The singer happily ate the food when it was ready, but was too eager. "Ow! Bernie! That's too hot!" 

"Then it's just your type." 

Elton started laughing, forgetting that he had just burnt his tongue. 

"I don't know what to do with you. But keep eating that.."

Elton shook his head with a grin and sipped some orange juice with a bit of vodka in it.

--

"Bernie. Will you put some music on, please." Elton demanded, but in a polite tone.

The lyricist put on a John Lennon record, "sure. I don't mind."

"That's better.." The piano player mumbled, listening to the chords.

Elton was shivering, yet he felt overheated at the same time. Not to mention being nauseous. It was pure misery.

He started to get up to get a blanket, but his friend pushed him back down gently. 

"That won't do any good, you know." He warned.

"But I want a blanket! It's way too cold!" The other man whined.

Bernie simply sighed and insisted he shouldn't get the blanket, softly but firmly speaking. He soothingly pat Elton on the head in reassurance.

Even with the nausea (it helped that Bernie brought him pieces of fruit or cheese to keep it down), Elton managed to stay put, less lonely with his friend. The only friend he felt he really needed.

-

An hour later, Bernie suggested they play a game. He'd been just reading magazines and cowboy books.

Elton, now perked up from the drink and soup, agreed. But he mentioned how he had no idea what to play.

"Well.. We can play a card game?" 

"I guess that's all right."

And so they did, both of them sometimes forgetting how a rule worked and the other telling him off. 

Elton was grateful that he had a friend who'd never be afraid of him, even if he was sick, and who didn't actually fight with him too. Fighting was so draining.

But there was a creeping feeling lingering over his mind, though he figured it was just that emptiness he felt when something ended.

It was hard to figure out the "in-between" moments. How to carry on. 

They ended the game and Elton put on another record, well - started to. Bernie told him to rest while he switched it. He'd put on any album, he just wanted his friend to be better.

-

Elton ended up letting his eyes close and fell asleep, so the other man sat nearby and read over his lyrics to new songs, trying to be productive.

It was oddly quiet, he thought.  He wasn't used to being in a nearly silent room with Elton.

Music drifted in and out of his ears, while he was still and writing words.

"How can I go forward when I don't know which way I'm facing?" A piano played. "...How can I go forward when I don't know which way to turn?" 

"This is a bit depressing." Bernie whispered to himself and quickly switched the album to a Joni Mitchell one instead.

Elton stirred a little, but settled back asleep when the music returned.

--

Not much later, he finally woke up, relieved to find Bernie still there. 

"What?" The younger man asked when he noticed the other looking at him.

"Nothing. Just, I was a bit worried you'd leave." 

"Of course not. I won't leave you." 

Elton nodded with certainty, leaning over cautiously and unsteadily. "Can I have a hug?" 

Bernie thought for half a second, before moving closer. "Well, okay." He embraced him.

-

"Thanks, Bernie. I know I don't say it much, but I really love you." 

"That's all right. I'm glad." Bernie was gentle and quiet.

Elton started to rest his head against Bernie's shoulder before he hesitated. "Sorry, am I too close?" 

Bernie shook his head, "You're not. Do what makes you feel better." 

Elton was immensely grateful, for his friend's patience, for his kindness, for his patience. For everything

Bernie honestly didn't mind being so close to Elton, knowing he'd do him no harm.

The two of them talked, Elton doing most of the talking, and they also laughed at some ideas. They spoke about the new music they were writing, about friends, anything.

And so Elton lay there with fatigue, but no longer miserable.

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word count: 940