Heart's Done Time (Aerosmith Fanfiction)

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen
Steven's POV
I picked Sesame up right on time, doing it all proper-like by ringing the doorbell and holding open her car door while she got in, looking beautiful as always in her jean shorts, short-sleeved button-down, and the cream socks with the pink lining that she loved so much.
From there we went to the restaurant, me telling the guy at the front that I had a reservation under the name Tallerico and Sesame wrapping her arm around mine more as a support than anything else--after all, I looked almost as bad as I felt, and Sesame was perceptive even when I didn't. She was kind enough to stay quiet, at least for a while, though.
We were showed to our seats and our waiter came to take our drink order (a coke for Sesame and water for me) and left just as swiftly, striding purposefully away from the table as if sensing that his presence wasn't wanted at that time. Sesame had shed her leather jacket, and it was now hanging on the back of her chair.
"Cool place," she commented, humming along to the Bob Dylan tune playing on the radio and scanning the area with her wide, perceptive eyes. "Those mod chicks are giving me the stink-eye though."
She was right. There was a group of young mods giving her leather jacket a look of disbelief, as if they didn't get why anyone would choose to wear such an article of clothing. They were also whispering amongst themselves--something about her hair, I figured--but I couldn't bring myself to care much.
"Ignore them," I advised her, my eyes scanning the menu for something not repulsive-sounding. "Mods are mean."
"Apparently rockers are mean, too," she commented, pointing to my split lip and raising one perfect eyebrow.
I laughed, careful not to reopen the wound. "Yeah, everybody's just a dick I guess," I said, making her smile.
"I guess so."
The waiter returned then with our drinks and asked what we wanted to eat. Sesame already knew, apparently, because when he looked to her she told him to please bring her the grilled chicken salad. I, on the other hand, was forced to hurriedly find something that wouldn't make me sicker than I already felt, deciding at last on soup and praying it was a good choice.
The waiter took our menus and left us, then, and we picked a conversation at random and worked it to its very demise before our food arrived, steaming hot and nauseatingly delicious-smelling. I swallowed hard.
Sesame began eating, cuing me to do the same, and I lifted a spoonful to my mouth, somehow managing to get it down without puking all over the table. I counted that as another of the nights' successes.
"I don't mean to be picky or anything," said Sesame, breaking the silence. "Because I know I'm the one who told you to look like complete shit tonight; but you look much shittier than I'd initially intended. Are you feeling okay?"
I swallowed again, putting down my spoon as if it bit me. "The--uhh--the withdrawals, I think. They, uhm, might be getting worse. I don't know. I feel kinda different. It's nothing to worry about, though," I told her, suddenly as clumsy with words as I was with trying to get out of bed in the morning.
"You know me, dear," said Sesame, smiling rather sadly. "I always worry."
"Yeah, well," I laughed. "You're right."
From then on out the night was great, though. Sesame buried her concern for awhile and even congratulated my eating efforts and rewarded them with a kiss, leaving me blushing and with the feeling that everyone was staring.
"You know," she said when I'd eaten all I could without throwing up. "The deal was a few days sober and a decent meal. Technically, it's been a few days and that was a decent meal by your low standards..." I wondered if she was saying what I thought she was saying. "I'd say you've fulfilled your promise and I wouldn't mind buying you a drink," she said and oh my god she was saying what I thought she was saying.
On the other hand, however, I was sick enough without poisoning my body. "I'm okay right now, actually," I told her, smiling a little at the proud look on her face. "Maybe another time."
"Sounds like a date," she told me with a mischievous smile. "Just... promise you won't go overboard again."
I grinned. "I promise," I said just before the waiter arrived with the bill.
I paid, and we left, bundling back up in our jackets to walk to the car and decide where to go from there, shuffling quickly to get out of the cold.
When we were seated in the warming car and strapped in to go wherever, we decided on Sesame's place since her mom was out partying and wouldn't be back until late tomorrow (if even then), so I drove us there with confidence despite the growing feeling of fever ravaging my body.
When we arrived, though, I was feeling thoroughly awful and would like nothing more than to lie down and sleep away whatever shitty illness my weakened body had managed to pick up. I was on a date though, even if it was mostly over, and so I tried to keep up appearances for as long as I could.
I parked outside the Bellos' house and escorted Sesame inside, helping her remove her jacket before taking off my own and then following her through the living room and into the kitchen where she immediately got to work brewing some tea. I sat on the edge of the counter and watched her work.
When she was finished, she handed me a mug of the steaming beverage and motioned for me to follow her into the living room. I obeyed, and set down my mug on the coffee table while she stood sipping hers in front of the TV, which had been switched on since before we arrived.
Her dazzling eyes were glued to the screen, obviously trying to figure out what was happening in whatever movie was playing before she could allow herself to switch it off. I stood watching her, unable to muster the strength to face the television myself.
For awhile we stood like this, her sipping the tea in her left hand while her right hung limp by her side, and me standing facing her until I elected to rest my forehead against her shoulder, enjoying the feeling of the cool fabric of her sleeve against my overheated skin. She shifted a little.
"God," she exclaimed after a few moments in this position. "You're burning up, Steven!"
She had her right hand on my face in an instant, tilting my chin up to look at me before she set down her mug beside mine. From there she placed her soft hand against my cheek and the other against my forehead, eyes clouded with worry as the heat of my skin met the cold of her own, and she made quick work of retrieving a wet rag from the kitchen and returning with it to place against my face.
"Sit down, sweetie," she told me sweetly as she firmly guided me to a sitting position on the sofa, head rested against the back as she gently bathed my face in the cool dampness from the cloth in her hand. "How long have you been running a fever?"
I stammered. "I--uh--I dunno. Uhm, maybe since this morning?"
"Oh, honey," she said, looking partially touched and partially like she thought I was a total idiot. She probably did. "Why didn't you just call and cancel? You know I'd understand completely."
"I couldn't wait to make it official," I told her honestly, and the blush that rose on my cheeks had nothing to do with the fever.
Her eyes welled with tears. "Well I hope it was worth the shit you're gonna have to deal with now, then, because you can't just go ignoring sickness like that without having hell to pay later," she scolded, a single tear dripping down her cheek and off the end of her chin.
"You're worth it," I said, just before I began to doze off.
"Whoa there, hot stuff, you're not sleeping here," she said, shaking me awake again. "Let's get you to bed."
I nodded my consent and helped as much as I could while she struggled to get me up on shaky legs and then to the bedroom.
Once there, she helped me lie comfortably on the bed and then stripped me down to my boxers (carefully, so as not to upset my injuries) and covered me in just the top sheet and a thin blanket. She still had tears in her eyes.
I watched her with mostly-lidded eyes as she undressed herself as well, stepping out of her socks and shorts and unbuttoning her top and bra, leaving her mostly naked until she could wrestle on a ratty tank top. Then she climbed into bed beside me and covered herself up, both arms coming to wrap themselves around the one of mine nearest to her. She hummed rather contentedly, then, trying to keep me from noticing the way she sniffled.
"I'm glad it's official, now," she said, taking a short moment to return the rag from earlier to my forehead. "Because I love you so much."
And with that assurance ringing in my ears, I was sound asleep.