Two Degrees of Separation

Chapter 9: Good Medicine

Author's Note: I looooove a good sick!fic, so here you go. Some nice sick fluffiness!

Chapter 9: Good Medicine

The next week had been a blur. Pentatonix had begun preliminary rehearsals for their tour beginning in a few months. Scott was busy, and Scott was exhausted.

The tabloids had had a field day with the photos from his little date with Harry. Frantic text messages from friends blew up his phone on an hourly basis. Scott couldn't help but feel an overwhelming feeling of excitement within his chest with every message.

Harry and Scott had texted each other pretty much constantly over the course of the past week. Harry had been flirtatious and sweet, telling Scott that he couldn't wait to see him again.

If only he had any time to even lay eyes on his new... well, he wasn't really sure what to call him.

It didn't help that his throat and lungs were burning with every breath he took since this morning. He was sick, and he was pretty damn miserable.

Scott threw himself into bed as soon as he got home that night. Without eating dinner or even showering, he passed out as soon as his painfully-congested head hit his pillow.

He woke later to the sound of that velvet accent enveloping the room. It was pitch black outside. Scott looked for Harry, confusion taking over him. He felt stupid when he realized that the source of the beautiful voice was his TV screen. The Late Late Show was on. It must be the crack of dawn, and Harry was his guest.

"Alright, alright, Harold. Welcome to the show, and congratulations are certainly in order for your Grammy award last week," James Corden announced, more to the audience than to the man himself. Scott watched fondly as Harry flashed a shy smile.

"Thank you, thank you. It was definitely an exciting evening," Harry replied, and Scott could listen to him read the dictionary for the rest of his life with his low, smooth voice.

"I'll bet it was." James looked at him, pointedly. Harry met his gaze and smiled, teasingly.

"What?" Harry said after a moment. The audience burst into laughter.

"I need to ask you a very important question before we move along."

"Okay." The audience was stirring now with whispers.

James slammed an enlarged photo on his desk so quickly that it startled Harry. The photo was of Harry and Scott outside of Sur, holding hands as Harry pulled Scott along. Both men were smiling and looking down.

"Explain yourself, Styles!" James feigned aggravation.

Scott sat up in bed, feeling himself start to sweat. He didn't know if he was feverish or if he was just extremely anxious to hear Harry's explanation of the photo.

Harry was laughing and shaking his head. James pretended to become angrier.

"Speak up! What is going on here?"

"That's... That's Scott Hoying. He's in Pentatonix," Harry said, playing dumb.

"I know who it is!" James exclaimed, smacking Harry on the arm with the photo. "He rejected me as a member of his band not a week ago and then I stole his bloody Grammy!"

"Hey, hey, don't damage that. I want to frame it when I get home." Harry joked, reaching for the photo. Scott felt a familiar warmth in his chest.

"What were you doing holding hands with Scott bloody Hoying? America needs to know!"