Tell Me Why "It" Hurts - A Scömìche Fanfiction

Sick

One day, Scott woke up with a very sore throat and he couldn't talk. I gave him some Advil but it didn't help. So I helped him out of the house and into the car and we drove to the doctor's office.

"Scott has laryngitis." The doctor said after an examination of his throat. "It's highly contagious and should be taken care of as soon as possible. I'll prescribe you with an antibiotic and I'll give you a list of home remedies." He said as he scribbled things down on a pad of paper. He ripped it off and handed it to me. I looked at it but could barely understand the writing. I drove to the pharmacy but I told Scott stay in the car. Anxiety set in quickly. I was alone but I stayed strong and I held my head up high. I walked to the counter and handed the pharmacist the paper then walked to the shelves. I picked out a few things off of them and brought them back to the counter. I paid for them, handing over my credit card and ID with shaking hands, then went back outside to the car. I placed the bag in between me and Scott and gently caressed his hand. He was sitting staring out the windshield and didn't flinch when in touched him. I wanted so badly to just grab his face and kiss him, but I thought better of it and pushed that idea to the back of my mind. Then, I started the car, pulled out of the parking lot, and drove home.

When we got home Scott went upstairs and got in our bed. I brought up the medicine and helped him take it, hoping that he would get better soon. I went downstairs and texted Kirstie. I asked her if she could come over and help me. She agreed and within a few minutes, she was knocking on the door. "You should have told me." She said grabbing my arms and pulling me into a hug. I was shaking a little in the wake of my anxiety attack. I brought her upstairs to our room where Scott was. He was sleeping on his side. Kirstie slowly walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. She gently placed a hand on his forehead and ran it over his hair. "It's a good thing that he's sleeping." She said. "It'll help him get better faster. Now, let's get some lunch."

Kirstie and I went downstairs and ate a lunch of sandwiches. Soon we heard footsteps from the stairs. I turned around to see Scott standing at the bottom staring at us with a white face. He slowly crossed the room and sat on the stool next to me. "I want so badly just to curl up with you and hold you until you get better." I said. He replied silently, with a small, weak smile. I reach and rub his back which was all sweaty. "Let's take your temperature." said Kirstie getting up and heading to our medicine cabinet. She pulled out the long white stick and rinsed it off before sticking it in Scott's mouth. When it beeped she pulled it out and read it. "Ninety eight point nine." she said. "That's good. It means you don't have a fever." "How do you feel love?" I asked him as he stared down. He took a deep breath and, in a raspy, forced voice he said, "A little better than I have been, but still pretty crappy." I sighed.

"How about we watch a movie." Kirstie suggested. Scott nodded and we all went over and sat on the couch. Scott in the corner (the favored spot) and Kirstie and I snuggled together next to him, with Wyatt on my lap. We were close enough to Scott to feel his body heat, but we were not touching him. We watched Peter Pan but all fell asleep before the end. By the time we woke up it was 4 PM. "Oh god." Kirstie said as she checked the time on her phone. "We slept for like two hours." Scott stayed unconscious while Kirstie and I bustled around the house cleaning up the kitchen and fixing our bedroom. I helped her get our second guest bedroom ready for her since I was sleeping in the one next to Scott's and my shared bedroom. "He'll get better sweetie." Kirstie said, as she hugged me. I had broken down as we were making the bed. I wasn't strong enough to do it on my own. I could barely take care of myself and, let alone Scott too.

***

After a few more days, Scott reached almost full recovery. He could talk again, and could do some simple singing - but it was quiet. Soon he wasn't contagious and I was cuddling with him all the time. "I'm sorry you had to do all that on your own baby." he said when I told him what had gone through. "I promise I'll never let it happen again." That night we slept together, I was glad to be able to feel his warm body heat radiating off him, it was comforting. I never wanted it to stop.