Domestic Bliss (Dustin Bates)

Sick

Dustin was sick. It wasn't good. He refused to lay down and rest, refused to stop working, utterly refused to let himself get better. You stormed into his office as soon as you got home from work, furious to see him sitting in his chair working on something.

"Dustin Paul Bates!" You yelled, stalking over to him. You put your wrist on his forehead, checking him for a fever. He felt like an oven that had been left on for hours. "To bed! Now!" You pointed to the doorway, your other hand on your hip. He sighed, looking down at Ernie, who laid contently in his bed.

"You herad the woman, Ernie. Daddy is in trouble." He stood up and walked up the stairs slowly, weak from the illness racking his body.

You emptied the bucket he had in his office and cleaned it, setting it to be brought up to him again. You grabbed a few more things before going up the stairs, finding Dustin sitting on the edge of the bed on his phone. You walked over and took his from his hand, setting in on the nightstand. Dustin sighed, dealing with you laying him down on the bed and covering him up.

"I swear, Bates. You are the most stubborn man that I have ever met," you ranted, giving him some tylenol and feeling his forehead again. He sighed, curling up in the blankets and resting. You set the bucket down by his side of the bed, setting his cup of ginger ale next on the stand next to him.

Dustin gladly took an excuse to be cuddled. You knew how much he loved to be the little spoon, so you supposed that that was the only reason he was sucumming to rest. He rested his head against you, his forehead burning up against you. You closed your eyes and ran your giners through his hair gently, massaging his scalp and taking care of him.

After thirty minutes, he was asleep, calmly against your chest. You hummed to him softly, pressing kisses to his forehead. You turned on the bedroom TV quietly, cuddling his burning body. Dustin shivered in his sleep, causing your body to wrap tighter around his. You loved him so much, but you wished he would take better care of himself. You called in sick for the next day so you could take care of your precious boyfriend.

After two hours, Dustin woke up to throw up. You gently rubbed his back and pressed kisses to his neck, touching his head softly. When he was mostly finished, you ran to the bathroom to get a couple cold rags for his face. You put one on the back of his neck and another on his forehead. He groaned, curling up into your chest, tears still on his cheeks from the violent expulsion of his stomach contents. All you cold do was wrap your arms around him and hold him as he broke out in a cold sweat.

He fell asleep soon after, exhausted from everything. You didn't want to think about how he had been handling himself before you got home and forced him to lay down. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, worried about him. He curled up closer to you in his sleep, begging for your warmth. You sighed, feeling his skin. You noticed how he had sweat through his shirt, causing it to stick to him and make him more uncomfortable. You slowly pulled away from him, moving his body so you could get the shirt off of him. He groaned and went back to sleep, ignoring your actions.

A couple hours later, he was up and drinking water and ginger ale, nibbling on saltine crackers when he felt he could stomach them. You started to figure out that he was more receptive to letting himself get better if it meant you would take care of you and he could just lay in your arms. You were perfectly content with that, after all.

A couple days later, Dustin came through the door, the sound of his sneakers and Ernie's paws on the hardwood signalled that they were back from their run. You smiled, closing your laptop lid. Dustin walked up behind you, pressing a kiss to your neck before continuing to the fridge for a bottle of water.

"So, all back to normal. A box of Tamiflu later," you smirked, taking a drink of your cup of coffee. He smiled at you, shaking his head.

"Yup. Works magic," he joked, moving to the table to sit across from you. You smiled, but stopped a second later.

"I think I'm going to be sick," you realized, your eyes wide. Dustin set his water down and stood up.

"Bathroom, now." He helped you up and to the bathroom where you got sick. He sighed, holding back your hair and rubbing your back. "Well, now I can repay the favor and take care of you." You groaned, laying back into him.

"Yipee."