#and the way it's lingering and the congestion is kinda moving into my chest a bit has me thinking maybe...

[likeabxrdinflight]

I haven't wanted to acknowledge this possibility because there is such a psychological component to it, but on day five still feeling pretty fatigued I have to consider the possibility that this illness may in fact be covid

If it is, it's a lot milder this time around than it was the first time I had it. But still...five days of fatigue isn't typical for other viral infections, certainly not head colds, even if it's not as dramatic as it was the first time.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

He Gives You Everything You Need

Characters: Sam Winchester x Skinwalker!Reader, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1,436

Warnings: being sick as a wolf, just so much fluff

Request by @gabrielslittleangel​: Reader is a werewolf (she can shift into a wolfie) and she gets sick, and she’s stuck in her wolf form, so they have to take care of her as a wolf. 

Summary: Shifting between your human form and your wolf form is painful enough as it is. Add an illness, and it’s unbearable.

Squares Filled: sat on his lap instead of the chair for @spnfluffbingo // shapeshifter in @spngenrebingo // common cold in @badthingshappenbingo​ // “She... I mean- she’s... she’s sweet and she’s beautiful and she’s just kinda sorta perfect.” for @spnquotebingo​ // food for @goodthingshappenbingo​

Fandom: Supernatural

Beta: she wants to remain anonymous

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

It’s that time of the season where the common cold makes it way back into civilization. Some people get it, and some don’t, and it’s usually the people who don’t think they’re going to get it. You’re one of those people. You haven’t done anything to warrant otherwise, but the cold found you through the sea of people. What’s worse is that you’re a shapeshifter and have been stuck in your wolf form for a while now. Sam and Dean think you’re stuck, but you like this version of yourself a lot better than the human version.

There’s just something so satisfying about being a dog. You have no responsibilities, you can run around in mud all day, you get to eat whatever you can fit into your mouth, and no one questions you when you do anything. You like being human when Sam and Dean are on a case because you get to help them out a lot better than if you were a wolf. There are certain things you can do as a human, and certain things you can do as a wolf.

You can’t have both.

When you turned back into your wolf form, you didn't know you had already contracted the common cold. You could go to the veterinarian, but you’d much rather go to a human doctor. They know what they’re doing more than veterinarians. If you’re in pain, then you might switch from a wolf to a human in front of the doctor. As a human, you know you can take the pain. If you’d known you’d be sick, then you might have stayed in your human form just a little while longer. After years of going through this, you know it’s better to be sick as a human than as an animal. You can’t communicate properly about what you need and how you’re feeling if you’re a dog.

You’d switch back, but it’s a very painful process.

Most people think shapeshifting is an easy thing to do when really, it’s full of pain and agony. Your bones shift to fit the animal or human you’re trying to imitate. Your nervous system has to be rewired in order to accommodate the thing you’re turning into. It’s why you like to stay in your wolf form whenever you’re at home. You’ve been shifting since you could walk, so the pain isn’t that bad, but it’s not like it’s a walk in the park either.

Sam and Dean are home right now since there is no case to handle. You’re very sick, but you know you’d feel a little bit better if you’re in the arms of one of the brothers. Dean is working on his car since you can smell the oil. Even with your congested nose, you can still smell the potent oil. Sam is reading in the library while sitting on the chair you got at a swap meet for only 20 bucks. It’s big and comfy, but it’s also full of dust. You tried getting as much dust out of it as possible, but there is still a lingering smell.

You walk into the library with your ears bent and your tail between your legs. You’re a small dog for a wolf but bigger than the average pet. Sam looks up from his book when he hears your nails tapping against the wood floors.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks when you get to his feet.

You look up and whimper at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes you know you can do. You howl softly and sneeze, looking down once more.

“Are you sick?” he asks, and you nod your head.

You’ve learned to understand human language whenever you’re taking on the form of an animal. It was hard to get used to, but you’re a pro at it now.

“Why don’t you shift back into a human and take some medicine?”

You tip your head back and howl as if you’re telling him, “fuck you, no, I’m not going to do that”. He knows how much it hurts you to shift, so he can only imagine what the pain would be like if you’re not feeling well.

“Are you hungry? I can get you something light to eat. How does chicken sound? I know we still have some.”

All you can do is nod, and he gets up to cook you the meat. Humans wouldn’t eat chicken if they aren’t feeling well, but since you’re a dog, the meat is good for your stomach. Dogs and humans have different digestive systems when it comes to being sick and what they can and can’t eat. It doesn’t take Sam long to cook the chicken, and soon he’s sitting back in his chair. He’s about to lay the plate on the floor when you hop onto his lap. He chuckles and makes enough room so that it’s comfortable for both of you.

“Want me to feed you?” he asks.

He does so without your response since he knows how much you like it. Even as a human, you like it when people feed you (especially Sam). He takes a big piece of chicken and holds it out for you, and you snatch it up. The chicken is at the right temperature, so it doesn’t burn your mouth, and you quickly swallow it. You eat everything on the plate in less than five minutes. It would have taken you one or two, but you wanted to take your time with this.

As soon as Sam moves the plate out of the way, you rest your head on his chest and close your eyes. You’re very tired and worn out, and he allows you to use him as a pillow. He smells so good and feels so comfy that you don’t want to move. He reaches up and pets your head while reading his book with one hand. He scratches your head lightly with his fingernails, and it’s enough o put you into a light sleep.

Dean comes in while wiping the oil that’s on his hands off on a towel and sees you and Sam together. He knows his brother has had a crush on you for the past few years, and he’s never done anything about it. He knows about your crush on his brother too, and he’s going to do something about it soon if you two don’t.

“What’s going on?” he asks and nods to you.

“She’s sick, and so I made her some chicken to eat.”

“You tell her how you feel yet?”

“No, Dean, and I don’t think I’m going to.”

“Why not? She’s the perfect woman for you. Why are you so afraid?”

“Can we not talk about this right now? She’s right here.”

“She’s asleep. I can hear her snores even from where I’m standing. What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not,” Sam mumbles.

“Bullshit.”

“Would you just drop it?”

“How can I when I always see you two eye-fucking each other whenever either of you looks away. You know she won’t turn you down.”

“I know. I guess that’s what I’m afraid of. She deserves someone better than me.”

“You are the only one who is good for her. We’ve known her for, what, ten years? I’ve never seen two people get along so well like the two of you.”

“How can I be sure I’d give her what she needs? What she wants? She... I mean--she’s... she’s sweet, and she’s beautiful, and she’s just kinda sorta perfect. What can I offer her?”

“That’s a question you have to answer. Ask her out before someone else does. She won’t wait for you forever,” Dean says and leaves the room.

Sam knows you’ll eventually give up waiting for him and look for someone else. He knows he should have asked you out years ago, but he’s too afraid that you won’t ever be satisfied with him. He can’t give you everything you deserve, and he doesn’t know how you feel about that. If you happened to reject him, he won’t ever come back from that. It’ll ruin what you two have now. But, then again, if you accept him for who he is, then he could have years filled with love and happiness with the woman he loves.

The reason you went to Sam is that he makes you feel safe. There is no one in the entire world you’d rather spend your life with than the man whose arms you’re in. He may not be able to give you everything you want, but he definitely gives you everything you need.

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[okaybutlikeimagine]

What if Billy got sick but cause he’s so used to pushing through it he didn’t think it was a big deal

(as of writing this, I, too, am sick!! >w

Ohmydear the poor poor hun!!! Okay you SO know that this child wouldn’t do anything about being sick. Like this kid is gonna be sick as a dog and still get totally set to go to school that day. Just bc he thinks he needs to!!!

Like…. He can’t remember the last time someone helped him through being sick. Sometimes when he was sick back in Cali, Max would bring him the bag of cough drops they kept in the bathroom or pour out the cold medicine when Billy was too dizzy to do it himself. He did the same for her when Neil and Susan were too busy to notice she needed it. When Susan was too busy attending to Neil to coddle Max like a baby.

But Billy never got that. Never really accepted it from the handful of times that Susan timidly offered bc accepting help from her felt poisonous. It always felt poisonous. There was never really a maternal care to be found in her eyes. Any that lingered there was always covered by a very genuine fear that pissed Billy off more than anything. Neil only did enough to make sure Billy didn’t actually die from his cold bc nothing pissed Neil off more than having to lug Billy to the hospital and pay for it.

So when he wakes up congested, he doesn’t do anything about it. He doesn’t tell anyone, he doesn’t say anything, he legit just goes about his day like normal. If he coughs a little roughly every now and then, no one notices (or Billy’s too out of it to see Hop giving him a concerned look).

So Billy keeps going to school, keeps going to work, keeps going to basketball practice, and obviously??? Keeps getting worse.

His voice is getting nasally and he glares at Hop when he mentions it.

He sneezes about 5 times in a row and flicks El in the shoulder when she whimpers and says “gross”.

He starts wearing so many layers to school that Tommy is actually concerned but shuts up as soon as Billy gives him a glare that promises death.

He pukes up his dinner one night and blames it on drinking. He relies on the hope that Hop will be too busy giving him a lecture on not drinking on a school night that he won’t question his sickness.

It’s not until he wakes up and he can’t breathe and his head is throbbing like someone’s put it in a vice and his throat is on fire that he decides now might be a good time to scavenge for something to help him.

So he gets up and wobbles himself over to the bathroom, digging through the medicine cabinet for anything he can possibly take to help himself. He finds some painkillers and children’s cough medicine. He briefly considers downing the bottle of syrup but, even in his sick haze, convinces himself it’s a stupid idea and instead wanders out into the rest of the cabin to grab his keys.

He runs into Hop first.

Like, legitimately walks right into Hop bc he’s walking with his eyes nearly closed bc he can’t keep them open.

“Woah- uh?”

“Hey.” Billy mumbles, but it comes out as more of a grunt. He goes to move around Hop but he just kinda rocks over bc his feet decide they don’t wanna move anymore.

Hop grabs onto Billy’s shoulders to stabilize him.

“Woah there, kid. You look like shit.”

Billy grumbles.

“And you’re Miss America?” Billy slurs, finally taking a step around Hop and making his way towards the door.

Hop turns enough to get a hold of the boy again, who’s now growling or… moaning? It sounds more like a ghost moaning in agony.

Hop’s not okay with this.

“Seriously, are you alright?”

“M’fine….” Billy groans out, weakly shaking his wrist to get Hop off of him.

Hop briefly considers letting go bc he feels bad, but he gets his other hand on Billy’s forehead and flips out.

“Holy shi- you’re burning.” He says, grabbing a harder hold of Billy’s wrist and pulling him gently towards his bed.

“Stooop…” Billy groans again, tripping over his feet as he’s pulled.

Hop flops him down onto the bed, Billy’s body hitting it hard bc he can’t hold himself up right anymore. He immediately curls up, head throbbing harshly from the pain of standing for so long.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Hop asks, walking over to the kitchen.

Billy groans in response.

“You sounded a little nasally the other day.” Hop adds.

Billy growls as menacingly as he can when there’s so much phlegm in his throat. It doesn’t really work.

“And you couldn’t keep your food down the other night. Wow, am i an idiot?” Hop says that last part under his breath to himself, amazed that he let this boy just walk around sick as a dog bc he kept pushing Hop away.

He walks back over with a wet towel and a glass of water.

“What’re you playing at, kid? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Billy swats at the wet towel being lowered towards his face. It’s incredibly weak and misses in the air.

“What’s there t’tell?” Billy asks, rocking his head back and forth to avoid the towel. His stomach starts to contract, Hop notices. He worries for a second it’s bc the boy is gonna throw up again, but in a few seconds Billy’s attempting to push himself up and out of bed.

Hop puts a hand on Billy’s chest and gently pushes him back down.

“You’re sick as a damn dog.”

“Mahhh… and? I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” Billy says, nose clearly stuffed up. He sounds like his lung is attempting to climb up his throat as he coughs.

Hop takes a deep breath of exasperation.

“Son, please. Lay down. I’m calling in to school.”

“But I have to… I have to… Max.”

Billy still drives Max to school everyday. Hop nods and waves his hand in the air in an act of dismissal.

“Right. Yeah, I’ll drive Max to school, you stay here and rest. I’ll be back”

“Mmm… work…?” Billy asks.

“I’ll let them know I can’t come in.”

“I’m fine.”

“Look, I’d leave you here but I’m worried you’re gonna try to go to school or work or something so for now I’m staying. Now shut up, I’m gonna make El make sure you don’t get up and I’m getting soup and medicine and… yeah. Maybe a thermometer.”

So Hop goes to Melvald’s, obviously. Bc he needs to buy medicine and stuff but he also needs to ask Joyce about what the fuck to do with a sick 17 yr old.

“Oh no, Billy’s sick?”

“Yup.” Hop says as he eyes up all of the different types of medicine. “What do you do when Jonathan gets sick?”

“Well I usually have to force him to stay home. My boys hate being home sick.”

Hop sighs bc he understands now. He picks up two different types of cough syrup and straightens out so he can analyze both.

Joyce walks up to him then, grabbing hold of both medicines gently and putting them down before picking up a completely different one and placing it in Hop’s hand.

“Jonathan and Will said this one isn’t as gross as the rest.” Joyce says, giving Hop a soft smile before walking through the store and picking out the best and most affordable brands of different things: tissues, a thermometer, cough drops. She also writes down a list of some good foods to feed him along with apple juice and some ginger ale. (“It’ll settle his stomach.”)

Hop follows behind her quietly, observing her choices and paying at the end. She sends him off with a pat on the back and the most motherly smile, telling him to “let me know if he needs anything else! And tell him I hope he gets well!”

So Hop walks back into the house, bags of medicines and such in his hands, where he sees El sitting on the couch tipping her head to the side every couple of seconds.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“Making Billy stay still.” El says with another tilt of her head. Billy, who’s currently trying to get up, falls back down again (seemingly not of his own volition)

El looks at Hop with a lopsided smile. “A little bit. Trying to.”

Hop ruffles her hair and puts the bags on the counter.

“I’m fine.” Billy says like hes still trying to convince Hop. Like Hop didn’t just leave and come back with bags full of stuff just to help him get better.

Hop just rolls his eyes and takes out the medicine, making a little more than a half hearted attempt to read the label because honestly, he hasn’t bought cold medicine in ages. He used to abuse pills, but that’s very different.

He pours the right amount of syrup according to the chair and hands it over to Billy, who sits up and scrunches his nose at the liquid.

“I don’t need it.”

“God, you’re stubborn as a bull. Just drink the damn medicine.”

El looks curiously, eyeing the colorful liquid as Billy downs it like a shot. Billy makes a face afterwards, sticking his tongue out in a disgusted gesture that looks involuntary.

“Joyce said her boys think it’s less gross than the rest.” Hop says by way of apology, giving a pitying look to Billy as he takes the tiny cup back.

“Haven’t had that stuff in years.” Billy says, giving his head a little shake and curling back down into the bed.

El asks if she can have some and Hop just shakes his head no as he takes the thermometer out and asks El to put it under Billy’s tongue and read the number out loud as he goes to put some soup on the stove.

“One zero five.” El calls out, looking to Hop to figure out how to react to that.

“Holy shit, kid!”

El turns to Billy with a gasp.

“Holy shit, kid!” She mimics, which makes Billy chuckle (and then groan again with the pain of the movement) and makes Hop sputter before saying “Don’t say that again, sorry, shouldn’t have said that.”

So Hop, who was planning on going to work that night, stays and watches Billy. Like he’s a fucking baby who caught the flu. Billy’s understandably livid about his lack of freedom and the intense level of coddling.

“I don’t have like… fucking scarlet fever. I’m fine.” Billy says over a cough while Hop wraps him up in even more blankets. He’s tucking them underneath him like he’s a burrito.

“Shut it, kid. Do you want some more soup?”

“I’ve probably had 5 bowls at this point. No. I don’t want any more soup.”

And Billy groans and growls and whines and complains and Hop and El dote on him like he’s a baby and he wants to hate it, he does. He kind of does hate it, actually, but there’s not a lot of fire in his body over it right now bc 1. He’s weak from being so sick. And 2. It’s sweet. It’s really, really sweet. It’s annoying as all hell, but it’s sweet too so he’s gonna sit here and let it happen.

It’s not until the next day of soup and medicine and tissues and coughing and ginger ale that there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, is Billy home?” comes the voice that Billy immediately recognizes as Steve.

“Uh-”

“Babe! Help!” Billy croaks from his bed, moving to get up but being pushed down by El’s powers. “They’re holding me hostage!”

It’s then that Steve rounds the corner to find Billy in bed, sweating and covered in blankets.

“Tell them I’m fine-”

“Oh my god, Billy! Are you alright? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick, I could have picked up something for you!”

“Hop bought the whole damn pharmacy yesterday.” Billy says, still congested and indicating the cough drops and medicine next to him on the table. “I-”

“Do you need some soup? How bout some water? Do you have a fever?” Steve places his hand on Billy’s forehead, then his cheek, then his neck, then into the collar of his shirt to his chest. “You’re burning up! What do you need? How are you feeling?”

And Billy, at this point… is blushing up a storm. Like…….. he’s been flushed the last few days from his sickness but suddenly he’s red as a tomato as this beautiful boy leans over him and dotes on him and-

“I’m dying.”

Hop scoffs loudly.

“Poor baby!” Steve gushes, rushing over to the kitchen in a flurry to grab some water and a towel. Billy grunts a little at being called a baby but it’s okay bc he gets to watch his boyfriend flutter around and care for him. “Here, put this on your head. My mom used to do this for me. Have you taken medicine today? Do you need more? How’s your throat doing? Do you want some tea?”

And with that, Billy snuggles into his blankets with a pitiful (and fake) look on his face, Steve coos in concern, and Hop grabs his hat.

“I’m heading down to the station. I think you can be off Billy duty for a while, kiddo.” Hop says to El before motioning to the TV. “Go ahead and watch some TV or something.”

El giggles and nods, sending Hop a wave before flopping down onto the couch to catch some cartoon reruns while Steve kisses Billy’s forehead with another coo.

[yeet-or-be-hawed]

Hunters of Flesh and Money: Part 3

Trelawny has another job for you, but this job comes with a familiar comrade. 

Arthur Morgan x Reader

“Shit,” You sighed as you dropped the corpse back down to the ground. Nine cents was all the poor bastard had. With a wipe of the brow you lifted the body and threw it into Flat Iron Lake, it will wash ashore in a couple of days but by then it would be impossible to track down the culprit. If there was one constant in your work it was your thoroughness.

With a sharp whistle, Garbanzo flew around the bend. When you reached into your pocket for your handkerchief you audibly cursed. It was lost somewhere between here and Roanoak Ridge so you washed your gloves and arms best you could in the lake. The water was warm and murky, not ideal for cleaning.

Garbanzo rested his head against your shoulder and you dried your hands to give him a pat. “Sun’s still high,” You said to the big horse. “Think we got time to go visit our old friend?”

The horse did not respond, but it really wasn’t up to him. Lemoyne was hot as ever, your clothes stuck to every inch of skin they touched and left you feeling sticky and uncomfortable. The smell of body odor was wafting into your nostrils with every gallop, maybe it was time for a bath. As you approached the center of town, you paused. Trelawny was still staying in his caravan north of Rhodes, it wouldn’t take long to meet him.

As you entered the saloon, you were greeted by the same old saloon gals, they were always happy to see you- it wasnt often they were paid in money and pleasure. Your favorite girl, a young blond waved at your from atop the spiral staircase. “Hey honey,” she called. “You here for me?”

You laughed, “not tonight sweetheart,” you placed a coin on the bar and slid it to the owner. “Just a bath today.”

The man behind the counter nodded, “Sylvia will have it ready for ya, you know where to go.”

You nodded, “Thanks Pete.”

Rhodes had become your semi-permanent home, as much as it bothered you to stay in once place for too long Sadie’s company was enough to keep you grounded. You would meet her at the saloon regularly, she would tell you about he people she rode with and you would tell her about the jobs you had been taking. She would bring up Arthur often, you tried not to linger on the subject. You hadn’t seen him since the night he came and checked on you and Trelawny after the whole kidnapping incident. You had made the mistake of admitting to Sadie he was a handsome man and she wouldn’t let you live it down since. She seemed to think you were a perfect match but the thought of being intimate with another person was scary. You had only loved once, and it ended with her being put six feet under because of you. When you needed a fix, saloon girls and random strangers at the bar were enough. It was safer for the men and women you slept with to remain anonymous, for their own good.

You couldn’t help the sigh of pleasure as you slipped your body into the warm water. The bubbles tickled your nostrils as you submerged yourself. It had been far too long since your last bath, you made a mental note to do this more often. As you began scrubbing your head, there was a gentle knock on the door. “Need some help, darlin’?”

You smiled at the beautiful blonde headed woman. “Well now, you know I cain’t deny you Ms. Sylvia.”

She giggled as she dipped her hands into the water, “it’s been so long since you called for me I reckoned you forgot bout me.”

“Forget bout you? Never.” Her hands glided across your arms and you melted under her touch. “I just been busy, you know me always gettin’ into somethin’.”

“Well, at least make an effort to come in for a bath every once ‘n a while, you’re covered in dirt head to toe!” Her hands moved down your back and rubbed slowly. Her lips were close to your ear now as she whispered, “you’re mighty tense honey, you sure you don’t want a bed for the night? No charge.”

She placed the softest of kisses behind your ear and you inhaled sharply. “No charge, huh?”

“That’s right.” Her lips were moving down your neck now.

“Well, who could deny that? I think I’m all clean now.”

You started to pull yourself from the tub and she pushed you back down with a soft chuckle, “not yet you ain’t, no need to be impatient, we got all night.”

You couldn’t refuse that, so you relaxed under her nimble fingers. Trelawny could wait until tomorrow.

The beams from the morning sun poured in the window and woke you. Sylvia was already gone, slipped out after you passed out. It was better this way, it was too dangerous to get attached. You stared at the ceiling as you puffed a cigarette, in your twenties these flings were nothing, but now? Now you just felt tired. Strangers and night women didn’t fill the void like they used to, with age the hole in your chest grew wider and wider. But this life doesn’t allow a family, doesn’t allow the deeper vulnerability that comes with love. Not without a price, and you had already paid it once.

You stretched and pulled yourself from the bed. Your clothes were scattered about the floor and you yawned as you retrieved them. “Shit,” you whispered as you fummed with the buttons on your shirt; the last button had popped off in the frenzy of lusting hands. You examined yourself in the mirror, your clothes were worn and dusty. Little holes were beginning to wear in the arm pits of your shirt. The closest tailor was in Saint Denis, and god did you hate it there. It would almost be worth the ride all the way to Blackwater just to avoid the congested city. But that would have to wait, you needed money.

The downside to staying so close to town for the sake of your old friend was the lack of animals around Rhodes. Sure there were plenty of deer- whitetails and pronghorn a plenty but you lived for big game. Elk, bears, cougars- that was what gave you the thrill and most importantly they were the big money makers. Maybe after you get done with Trelawny you would write to Sadie and let her know you were heading North West for a couple of weeks. Surely she would be safe with the others. You felt silly, of course she would be safe they saved her when she needed them most. This gave you a pang of guilt, had you been there for her when she needed you, maybe Jake would still be alive right now and maybe she wouldn’t look like a dead woman walking. A part of you wanted to stick around, but you couldn’t revolve your life around her and she wouldn’t want you to.

When you exited the saloon, you headed for the stable. Garbanzo whinnied excitedly when he saw you enter. The man working the stable looked up from grooming his horse. “Take it you’re here for pick up?”

You nodded. He pointed lazily towards the stall. “It’s unlocked, you can go ahead and grab ‘em.” He stood. “That’s one well behaved horse ya got there.”

You gave him a pat, “that’s my beanie boy.” You turned to the stable hand. “You damn right, best horse I ever had.”

You paid the stable hand well and led the hulking horse outside. The morning sun was rising steadily and the heat rose by the minute. As you rode to the bundle of caravans, you tried to remain in as much shade as possible; the midsummer heat was damn near unbearable.

When you approached, Trelawny was in his same spot reading his same book. He looked up as you dismounted. “Ah, hello old friend!”

“Hey there Trelawny. Looks like yer bout done with that book there.”

“Ah yes,” he folded down the page and closed it. “I assume you aren’t here to discuss literature.”

You chuckled and rubbed your neck, “naw, but I’ll always listen. Used to be a reader myself before I got in knee deep with the law.”

He extended the book to you, “here take it, that is if you’re still literate.”

You waved your hands in denial, “You ain’t gotta do that, I could pick up a book next time I find one.”

“But I insist! I’ve read this one so many times I know what the next word is before I read it.” His tone turned solemn. “Please, take it. Think of it as a small payment for my eternal debt to you.”

You scratched your nose as you took the book. “Thank you, Josiah. I’ll be sure to read it.” You leaned against the railing of the small porch. “You got anything for me to do today?”

“Ah yes,” he straightened in his seat. “You’re an avid hunter, yes?”

You looked at the pile of furs on your horse and turned back to Trelawny with a smirk. “Guess you could say that.”

“Well how do you feel about hunting down some wolves?”

You spat on the ground. “Shit, I’ll kill anything worth killin’.”

He nodded, “good, good. A farmer down at Bolger Glade is paying well for the skins of the wolves who have taken a liking to his farm. Says they’ve been eating up his livestock.”

With a nod you mounted your horse. “Sounds like my kinda job. Ain’t far from here neither. I’ll come back when I get done if it ain’t too late.”

“I look forward to your return.”

You tipped your hat to him and you were off. Trelawny watched you disappear over the horizon. Something was nagging him, he immediately felt uneasy about sending you by yourself.

You frowned at the bloodied corpse. He sure looked like a farmer, with a grimace you wondered if there would be anyone to pay you. Well, if anything the butch will pay well for the furs. The tracks were a winding mess and the farther you followed, the more evident it was this was more than a couple of lone wolves. You clutches your rifle tight, a wolf can be taken down easily with one shot but with this many you were beginning to feel uneasy.

You followed the tracks to a pile of bones, covered in teeth marks. You counted at least four sets of tracks. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before, you inhaled then exhaled deeply. As you stood, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. As you turned you heard the snarl. Coming on you fast we’re three big grey wolves. You backed away as you put a bullet in the skull of the first. As you reloaded, you whistled for your horse. The second wolf was almost on you when you shot it clean between the eyes. The third followed right behind, hardly giving you time to reload. It knocked you to the ground, but not before you pressed the gun to its chest and fired. Luckily it only knocked you to the ground, no blood was shed. Your eyes studied the woods around you, one more wolf was left, that you were certain. You whistled again, where was Garbanzo?

You turned around to search, the big animal didn’t scare easily but wolves were one of the few exceptions. He was on the far side of the field, trotting wearily towards you. Another growl from behind you drew your attention back to the woods. It was fast, but not fast enough. You had already reloaded and the wolf was making a beeline straight for you, an easy kill. A single bullet and the wolf fell forward. With another look around, you finally allowed yourself to relax. As you began skinning the first wolf, Garbanzo trotted up behind you. When you loaded the skin, you gave him a pat. Most of the pelts were quite perfect, except the one that knocked you to your feet. You frowned at the poor pelt as you examined it before stowing it.

The last wolf was the farthest away, lying just on the edge of the wood. You wiped the sweat from your brow and skinned the wolf quickly. It was afternoon now and the heat was sweltering. As you slid your knife along the spine of the wolf, Garbanzo whinnied. “I’m bout done, ‘Banzo just hold on.”

A branch snapped behind you, you looked up in time to see the huge black wolf mid-jump. Before you could react, it’s claws were in your back. You threw your elbow back hard and knocked it to the ground. Your rifle was back on the horse, you drew your knife. In order to time it right, you would have to make a risky move and allow yourself to act as bait. You crouched low to the ground as the wolf circled you, you circled with it so it couldn’t pounce your back again. With a snarl and a bark it charged. Lightning fast, the wolf was on top of you, one arm held up above your body to protect yourself, the other plunged the knife through the wolf’s jaw. You winced as you pushed the dead weight off you. When you touched your back, you could feel where the wolf’s claws tore through your shirt. Your hand was covered in blood. It’s hind claws tore through your pant leg on your thigh, leaving angry red scratches. Luckily for you, it didn’t break skin.

You quickly loaded the big black wolf into your horse, better to find a safe place to skin it than risk a run in with another wolf. Mounting Garbanzo, you pushed him hard back to Trelawny’s caravan.

You arrived back early evening, you couldn’t feel the blood trickling down your back anymore so you assumed it had stopped bleeding. You had used all your bandaging last week, you prayed Trelawny had some. As you approached, you saw another man standing on the porch talking with Trelawny. Those broad shoulders looked familiar, when he turned you recognized him.

“Howdy fellers,” you greeted the men as you hitched your horse.

“Howdy,” Arthur repeated back with a wave.

Trelawny stood, “Ah, hello my dear girl! Seems as though those wolves didn’t give up much a fight.”

You chuckled lightly and turned and pointed to your back. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Trelawny inhaled sharply, Arthur took two long strides and inspected your back thoroughly, “Shit, you okay?”

You weren’t used to physical contact with other people, his soft prodding hands made you feel uncomfortable but you didn’t shift from under them. “I’ll be fine, may need some new clothes though.” You turned back to face them and looked pointedly down at the gashes in your pants. “I’d say these are done for.”

Trelawny chuckled. “I would be inclined to agree. It’s about time, I thought you’d be in those rags til the day you died.”

You shrugged, “probably. You got any spare bandage I can borrow? Pretty sure the bleeding stopped, just don’t want it to get infected.”

Trelawny frowned, “I’m afraid not my dear.”

You sighed, “guess I could shred this shirt for bandage-“

Arthur interrupted, pulling a roll of bandage and a bottle of whiskey from his satchel. “I gotcha. Sit on down.”

You sat on the crate in front of the fire, his big hands gently pulled the shirt up above the claw marks without revealing your chest. “This okay?” He asked.

You just nodded, his rough hands were surprisingly gentle. You winced in pain as he poured whiskey in the gashes. “Sorry.” He whispered.

“S’ okay.”

He made quick work dressing the wound. You were glad to be facing away from him, his touch filled your brain with static and sent a wave of heat across your face. It was very strange, you didn’t know how to feel about it. When he finished, he pulled your shirt back down and gave you a pat on the shoulder. “Yer good.”

You stood and nodded to him, “Thanks.”

Trelawny cleared his throat, “You wouldn’t happen to be feeling up for another job would you?”

You scratched your head, “depends, does it involve wolves?”

Trelawny laughed heartily. “No, not at all. It should be very easy for you, I just need you and Mr. Morgan here to deliver some supplies.” He scratched his nose. “It really needs to be delivered to Emerald Ranch before sun down. I’m sure Arthur here can handle it on his own though if you aren’t-“

“Nah, I can do it.” You said as you stood. “Emerald Ranch ain’t too far from here anyways, long as there ain’t no distractions we should be able to get there ‘fore night fall.”

“Wonderful!” Trelawny exclaimed. “The wagon is just behind that caravan there.” He pointed past the neighboring shack. “Hurry along now, you’re losing time!”

“Yeah, yeah we’re goin’.” You rolled your eyes as you hitched your horse. “Well be back soon now, ya hear?” He responded with a huff.

“You ready?” Arthur asked as you joined him beside the fire. You nodded.

As you turned Trelawny called back, “be careful this time! You won’t get paid if you wreck the wagon again!”

Arthur smirked, “Again?”

You crossed your arms and your lips pulled into a mischievous grin. “Ain’t never quite got the hang of wagons, always try and go too fast around corners.” You scratched your chin, “come to think of it, I don’t think Trelawny’s given me a delivery job in months. Not since I almost killed myself crashin’ a wagon full a dynamite.”

Arthur laughed as he climbed up the wagon. “No offense, but I think I’d be more comfortable if I drove.”

“None taken,” you said as you took your seat beside him. You pulled your shot gun off your shoulder and into your lap. “And no offense to you Mr. Morgan, but I think I’m better suited as the strong arm anyways.”

His brows flew into his hairline as he scoffed, “I dunno bout that one.” His tone went to a more joking manner. “‘Sides, I’d say my arms are stronger than yours.”

With his free arm he flexed with a goofy smile. He did indeed have very nice arms. You cleared your throat and mirrored his flex. “What’s that phrase, bout the size of the ship?”

He laughed, “It ain’t the size of the ship, it’s the motion of the ocean?” Another laugh. “Guess there’s some truth behind that.”

You giggled, “you seem pretty familiar with the phrase, you use it a lot for compensation?”

Arthur’s face turned bright red and he began to stammer when your eyes glanced pointedly at his trousers. “No-“ he started, more defensive than he meant to sound. “No, I don’t think I got much to worry bout in that department.” His tone sounded more smug.

You chuckled, “Good on you, Mr. Morgan.”

“I ain’t never cared for the whole Mr. This and Ms. That, ya know.”

“Sorry, Mr.” You cut yourself off. “Sorry Arthur.” You looked up at the sky. “Ain’t much stuck with me as far as manners go, ain’t quite sure why but that’s just bout the only thing I remember my parents tellin’ me.”

“You ain’t gotta apologize, I understand.” He scratched his chin in thought. “Guess I don’t really remember much a what my ma tried ta teach me. Ma daddy ain’t never taught me much more than to be a thief.” He turned back to you, “Is Fletcher yer real name?”

“Is Tacitus Kilgore yours?”

“Fair enough. But you know my real name.”

You returned his gaze. “Ain’t nothin’ to a name. Just another word people use to talk boutcha behind yer back.”

He nodded, “Ain’t quite thought of it that way.”

You nodded and a silence fell over the ride. The bench seat of the wagon was terribly short. Arthur’s thigh was pressed against yours and with every tremble of the wagon you could feel his body against yours. You kept your eyes forward and tried to ignore the static in your brain. As the sun fell behind the trees, the sky was filled with bright orange and red, the clouds were pink and lilac. As your eyes wandered, you caught Arthur rubbing a bald spot on his chin. “That a scar?”

Your question seemed to pull him from his trance like thoughts. “Huh?”

“On your chin there,” you pointed to it. “Is it a scar?”

“Oh, yeah.” He smoothed the hair around his chin line as he spoke. “Got thrown off a horse one day and got skidded up pretty bad. Took a nice little chunk outta my chin and sprained my wrist.” He nodded to the scar that ran across your right cheek. “What bout you?”

“Cougar, our near Strawberry back in ‘88. First time huntin’ a big cat.” You chuckled, “learned the hard way to never leave your back open, and always pack one of these.” You dug in your satchel and pulled out a mask. Arthur laughed, it wasn’t pretty that’s for sure. It was nothing more than a thick parchment with a crude face and strings that tied in the back. The artwork was terrible, but Arthur would never say it. “What in the hell is that gonna do?”

“Well,” You said as you tied the mask to the back of your head. “Met a man from India years back, he said their cats back home are even bigger than cougars. I didn’t really believe him, but he showed me a picture in a book. Looks like a mean son of a bitch. He said his people made masks to wear on the back of their heads, keeps ‘em from sneakin’ up behind ya.” You turned your head to show Arthur the mask, “don’t even have to be a good lookin’ one, as long as it has a face.”

Arthur was stunned, “and that really works?”

You nodded, “ain’t had one jump me from behind since.”

“Amazing” he whispered.

You nodded and put the mask away. “Learned a lotta tricks of the trade in my years. Makin’ money off the land can be just as deadly as makin’ money off the people.” You lifted your shirt to reveal a round scar above your stomach. “Got too close to a Whitetail Buck during mating season. Always thought I’d get pummeled by a bison or eaten by a bear before I got stabbed by a damn deer.”

Arthur averted his eyes from your skin quickly, even on your stomach you were riddled with scars. It reminded him of his own body, a body he always thought was grotesque and ugly because of his scars. So why didn’t he find your scars so horrible to look at? He didn’t want to find the answer. He coughed, “looks like we’re bout there.” He paused for a moment then brought his spare hand to his brow and squinted towards the horizon. “Hold on a minute, we may have company. You got that shotgun loaded?”

You gave it a solid pump. “Always.”

He kept his eyes on the horsemen ahead. The path went up a small hill and at the very top, two men were stationary on their horse; that’s always a suspicious sign. As the wagon approached, Arthur could clearly see the men were holding guns. “Yep,” he sighed. “Definitely got some company. Keep a level head, if they let us clear we-“

You had also examined the horsemen on the hill, you had also noticed the guns. Whether they were waiting for this wagon or not, their presence was not welcome by you. You stood and pulled the rifle from your back. Arthur’s eyes were trained on the men ahead and he was saying something, but you weren’t listening. You lined up your sights and landed a perfect headshot.

Arthur jumped in surprise to the loud pop of the gun. He watched as the first man fell. “What the hell are you doin’?”

As you lowered your gun to reload, the second man barreled down the trail, accompanied by six other men who appeared from the trees. You lined back up for another shot, “Ambushin’ them before they ambush us.”

“Shit!” Arthur cursed as your gun let out another loud shot. He began to pull out his pistol. You switched your rifle back out for the shot gun as the men approached firing range. “Just keep drivin’! I can take care a these guys you just make sure we get there in time!”

Arthur watched as your slugs blew back one body after another. He nodded and whipped the reins hard. Luckily for you, Arthur was a master driver; he maneuvered the wagon off the path and around trees and shrubs as you tore through the pursuers. Arthur hit a small rock and the bump almost threw you off the side, you let out a small yell before a big hand caught your wrist and pulled you back down on the bench seat. You nodded a quick thanks to Arthur before turning back and delivering the final blow. You kept an eye on your surroundings before finally relaxing and turning back to the front. “Okay, think we’re clear.”

Arthur nodded. “Just in time.” He pointed and just over the rolling hills of the Heartlands you saw the towering windmill of Emerald Ranch. Arthur pulled the wagon into the barn just as the sun was turning to a sliver over the horizon.

“Didn’t think you’d make it.” The man in the barn said as he handed Arthur a stack of cash.

He nodded, “wasn’t quite sure we would.”

“Have a good one!” He farm hand called as the two of you exited the barn.

Arthur silently counted the money and handed you half. He let out a sharp whistle. After a few minutes and a handful of whistles, a beautiful white Arabian came appeared from beyond the horizon. You turned to Arthur, “we not takin’ the wagon back to Trelawny?”

“Naw, it’s their wagon. I take it to load up and bring it back.”

“Shit, I left Banzo with Trelawny. There’s no way he’d hear me if I whistled for him.” You rubbed your neck and cursed again. “Guess I could rob the next unfortunate soul I see of their steed.”

Arthur mounted the horse, “ain’t no need for that,” he offered you his hand. “I can take ya back.”

You eyed the tiny horse suspiciously, Arthur looked huge on the little thing. “I dunno Arthur, that’s one tiny horse ya got there.”

He rolled his eyes, “not all of us ride mammoths, you know.”

You took his arm and he pulled you up, “What did you just call my horse?” You wrapped your arms around his waist and frowned. “Jesus Arthur, this is a child’s pony! Next real horse I see I’ll nab for ya.”

He chuckled, “I thank ya, but this ol’ girl is good enough for me.” He patted her neck. “Strong gal, this one is.” He paused. “Bet she could beat your ol boy in a race any day.”

You scoffed, “I’m sure she could, Garbanzo isn’t meant to be fast, he’s meant to be strong. He’s meant to be fearless.”

“You sure love that horse, don’t ya?”

You rolled your eyes, “course I do, don’t you?”

He smiled, “yeah, I do. They really are somethin’ aren’t they?”

You nodded. “Loyal, beautiful, strong creatures. Everything we’re supposed to be. A horse has never lied to me, or killed someone I love. A horse has never betrayed me or sold me out. A perfect companion.”

Arthur nodded, “couldn’t agree with you more.”

By the time you arrived back to Trelawny’s humble abode, the moon was high and the crickets and cicadas were singing. He was no longer in his usual spot on the porch and the lamp inside was turned off.

“Probably asleep.” Arthur whispered as he peeked inside. “Yep, definitely asleep.”

“Good thing we already got paid.”

He nodded. A strange quiet fell between the two of you, not awkward or uncomfortable but not familiar either. You rubbed your arm uncomfortably and cleared your throat. “I should uh, I should go.”

Arthur stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Me too.”

You unhitched Garbanzo and as you passed Arthur you tipped your hat, he returned the gesture. It wasn’t a long ride back to your camp, when you arrived you crashed into your bedroll immediately. That night you dreamed of a familiar feeling you had long forgotten.

[knotsandknives]

prompt fill for anonymous who said: I would literally kill for a fanfic with a sick Joseph begging Robert for sex and getting refused because Robert wants him to stay in bed and get better. (Bonus if theres lots of Joseph teasing to try and get what he wants)

It couldn’t have come at a worse time. Mary has the kids for the weekend, taking them on a road trip to Maine for the Pumpkinfest and Regatta event in Damariscotta (which, honestly, Joseph wouldn’t have minded going to that himself, but this was finally a chance at a whole weekend alone with Rob), and Joseph had stocked the house with enough food and booze to ensure they wouldn’t need to go outside for at least two days. He’d washed the sheets, vacuumed the couch, cleaned the kitchen counters (Robert’s a pretty firm believer in the ‘whenever the mood strikes’ approach to sex). He has been waiting for this, and he is ready.

Which is why, Joseph is sure, he’d woken up with a sore throat and a splitting headache, which had progressed into full-blown, nose-dripping, incessant-coughing sickness in a matter of hours. It’s the universe playing the cruelest of tricks on him, and he doesn’t even believe in that sort of thing.

He’s tried everything from alka seltzer to steam showers to fervent prayer, but he’s only getting worse as the clock ticks nearer to Robert’s promised arrival time of 4 p.m. He’d caught the earliest flight out. He was looking forward to this as much as Joseph. Joseph feels horrible.

Literally. But he’s determined to fake his way through this if it kills him. Who knows when the next time they’ll get a weekend alone will be. It’s now or never, Joseph thinks, grimly.

He allows himself two more hours to wallow in bed before dragging himself to the bathroom to shower, shave, and moisturize. He wishes Mary had left some kind of foundation or concealer behind when she’d moved out. The bags under his eyes combined with the sickly pallor of his skin are dead giveaways. Maybe he’ll just keep the lights off when Robert arrives and claim a desire for a little mood lighting.

Joseph gets situated on the couch, barefoot in silk pajamas, really playing up the cliche here, with 30 minutes to spare. And promptly falls asleep, mouth open to combat the stuffiness in his nose, chest rattling with every shallow breath.

He wakes to the slam of the front door, throat screaming for a lozenge, eyes crusted with sleep. God, he’s a mess. Joseph struggles into an upright position, scrubbing at his eyes, slapping his cheeks to infuse them with a little bit of color.

“Honey, I’m home!” Robert calls out from the entryway.

“In here!” Joseph calls back, wincing at the strain on his throat. Hopefully his ears are as stuffed as his nose, distorting his hearing, because he sounds like he’s already got one foot in the grave.

There’s the sound of Robert’s luggage hitting the floor, which means he’d come straight here without stopping at home. He must not be planning to go home at all, since he’d brought the bag in with him. Joseph feels warm all over, but that could be the fever.

Robert steps into the living room, broad smile on his face. He’s removed his jacket, and the open v-neck of his shirt exposes the sharp protrusions of his collarbone, the thatch of grey-flecked hair on his chest. He’s got more than the usual two-or-three day’s worth of stubble, working his way toward an honest beard, like he’s been too busy to bother with it. Joseph knows he’ll shave it off within the next day or so, but for now, he anticipates the burn it’ll leave at his mouth and chest and thighs. There’s an intensity in his eyes that Joseph recognizes as the strain of time apart, but there’s hunger too, in the way his gaze sweeps over Joseph’s body, lingering on his bare ankles and unbuttoned shirt. Joseph shivers, a little. It’s not the fever.

“Somebody’s eager,” Robert says, stopping at the coffee table to toe out of his boots. Joseph wants to reach for him, but he doesn’t really have the energy to lift his arms, so he settles for lounging seductively against the arm of the couch.

“I’m not even going to deny it or try to engage in some kind of witty banter,” Joseph tells him. Mostly because my head feels like someone stuffed cotton in it. “I want you and I missed you. Just kiss me.”

Robert obeys, sliding over Joseph’s prone body, hands trailing over silky fabric from his waist to his neck, cupping his jaw with gentle fingers. He kisses with restraint, gentle even when Joseph would have him be rough, the kiss more of a greeting than anything else.

“Hi,” Robert says, soft, pressing a kiss to the corner of Joseph’s mouth. He can be frustratingly tender, sometimes.

“Hi,” Joseph tries to reply, but the word sticks in his throat, sending him into another fit of hacking coughs. Robert pulls back, frowning. Joseph is flooded with dread, trying desperately to suppress the coughing. He holds his breath until his lungs feel like they’ll burst, but it isn’t enough to get Robert back where he was.

His hands come up to frame Joseph’s face before he lays one flat against his forehead. “You’re burning up,” he says, accusingly. “You’re sick?”

Joseph shakes his head weakly, not even enough to dislodge Robert’s hand. He’s still holding his breath, so he can’t answer with words. He just leans in, aiming for Robert’s mouth, intending to kiss him long and good enough to make him forget anything else. Robert pushes him back, hand at his head.

“You’re sick,” he says again, not a question this time.

“No, I’m not,” Joseph coughs out, gasping for air in between. “I just swallowed wrong. I’m fine, really.”

“Your eyes are glassier than mine late on a Friday night.”

“Try any night,” Joseph shoots back before he’s seized by another round of coughing. Robert grasps his shoulder, pulling him upright so he can rub his back in firm, soothing circles. Joseph rests his head on Robert’s chest, miserable.

“I know it’s the sickness makin’ you all mean and disagreeable, so I’m gonna let that one slide,” Robert says magnanimously. “Why didn’t you tell me you caught the plague?”

“I just woke up to it this morning,” Joseph rasps out, trying to speak carefully to avoid another fit. “I took medicine. It should kick in any minute.”

Robert snorts, inelegantly. “Bullshit. Only cure for this kinda thing is a solid coupla day’s sleep.”

Joseph makes a protesting noise that Robert mocks. “Robert, come on. We’ve been waiting for this. I cleaned the house!” Joseph lifts his head, imploring eyes meeting Robert’s. “I feel good enough for this, I swear. Just kiss me again.”

“I don’t want your germs.”

Robert laughs when Joseph pouts, ducking his attempts to draw him back into a kiss.

“Rob! We can’t waste this opportunity.” Joseph pauses, considering. “I shaved earlier.” He leans in, putting his lips to Robert’s ear, voice dropping enticingly. Minus the congested wheeze. “And not just my face.”

Robert groans, theatrically. “Don’t make it worse,” he scolds, turning his face into Joseph’s hair. “I’m not tellin’ you no because I want to.”

“So don’t tell me no,” Joseph wheedles, pressing his luck by trailing kisses along the column of Robert’s throat. He pretends the wetness he leaves behind is from his mouth and not his nose.

Robert is holding very still, hands resting against Joseph’s back, not encouraging but not discouraging, either. He lets Joseph find his mouth again, consenting to a deeper kiss than before. Joseph feels a thrill of victory, shifting closer, tilting his head to get a better angle. Robert’s fuller-than-normal beard tickles his nose, and Joseph sneezes. Just like that. No warning. Into Robert’s open mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” Robert sputters, jerking away. His beard is full of Joseph’s snot. He rubs a hand across his face, looking between Joseph and the hand in abject horror. Joseph stares back, mouth open to apologize, but the expression on his face is too good. Joseph bursts into laughter, gasping with it when Robert’s face settles into a heavy scowl.

Of course, he starts coughing before he can say anything, harsh and painful. Robert touches his back again, gently. “I’m gonna get you some water,” he says, sounding disgruntled but concerned. Joseph catches his hand as he stands.

“Cough drop?” he manages, falling back against the couch when Robert nods. His head is killing him again, not amenable to the frequent bouts of coughing. His throat feels like someone’s been walking around it in cleats, and not the soft spike kind. The sneeze cleared his sinuses briefly, but he can already feel them closing up again. Fucking colds.

Robert comes back with a tall glass of lukewarm water, guessing correctly that cold would be torture right now. He’s got a handful of troches, unwrapping one and handing it over when Joseph finishes his water. Joseph gives him a wane smile in thanks.

“Think you can make it upstairs?” Robert asks, pressing the back of his hand to Joseph’s forehead again, his own brow wrinkled in worry. “Probably be more comfortable.”

“I’m not going upstairs unless you promise to fool around with me,” Joseph insists, stubbornly. “Otherwise, the fresh sheets and candles and flowers are just going to depress me.”

“You got candles and flowers?” Robert asks, sounding amused. “I ain’t your girl, you know.”

“You’re my man,” Joseph counters, leaning into the touch when Robert’s hand slides down to cup his cheek. “I want to seduce you.”

“Sneezing in my face was a good start.”

Joseph huffs a laugh, turning his face into Robert’s hand, slightly embarrassed now that the amusement has faded. He knows Robert won’t hold it against him but still. How mortifying. “Let me make it up to you,” he implores, still going for sexy. “However you want. Whatever you like.”

Robert fixes him with a considering look. “I like those pajamas,” he admits, trailing a finger across the line of Joseph’s shoulders. “But what I’d really like is to just curl up with you in those fresh sheets of yours for a few hours.”

“Rob…”

“Hey, I’m tired too, kid,” Robert insists, still running his hands over Joseph’s chest. “I’m gonna need my rest if I’m gonna fight off whatever it is you’re trying so hard to give me.”

“I’m trying to give you my -” Robert covers Joseph’s mouth with a hand, eyebrow raised in amusement.

“We’ll see how you feel after some sleep, how’s that?” Robert promises, prodding Joseph until he stands, a little wobbly as his head swims. Robert fits himself under his arm, wrapping his own around Joseph’s waist tightly. “We can try the sneezing thing again. I could maybe get into it.”

“Rob,” Joseph groans, shuffling his way up the stairs at Robert’s behest. Rob just laughs, easing him down at the edge of the bed. He helps Joseph swing his legs up on the mattress, tucking the sheets around him once he’s situated. Joseph makes a helpless noise when he steps away, but Robert just winks at him, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I know I tell you this all the time, but today I mean it literally when I say you’re hot, baby.” Robert shucks his pants next, crossing to the other side of the bed before sliding in next to Joseph. “If I’m gonna sleep with you, I gotta lose some layers.”

“You could lose them all,” Joseph suggests, scooting closer to Robert and hooking a leg over both of his, trapping him beneath Joseph’s greater weight. He props himself up on an elbow, leaning in to share a honey-lemon flavored kiss. Robert catches his wandering hand before it can reach the waistband of his briefs.

“Nice try. Turn over.”

Joseph complies happily, flipping onto his stomach and smiling across the bed at Robert. Robert shakes his head, pulling at Joseph’s far shoulder until he’s up on his side, fitting himself in close to his back.

“I meant like this,” Robert clarifies, dropping an arm over Joseph’s waist. His hands, typically so warm and rough, feel almost cool against Joseph’s heated skin, as does his nose when he presses it to the back of Joseph’s neck.

Joseph settles back into him, shifting more than is strictly necessary just to feel the weight of Robert’s groin against his ass.

“Stop that,” Robert demands, gruffly, when it’s clear he isn’t doing the best job of ignoring him.

Joseph smiles at the wall, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Robert in his periphery. He has his eyes firmly closed, but Joseph can see the tension in his mouth. He’s working so hard to keep himself in control. All Joseph would need to do is-

“I can hear you thinking. Go the fuck to sleep, Christiansen, or I’ll leave.” Robert softens the threat with a kiss at the juncture of Joseph’s neck and shoulder. His fingers brush over Joseph’s stomach, comforting. “It looks real romantic in here, by the way. You done good.” Joseph just sighs.

“I had plans, you know,” he tells Robert, mournfully, coughing a little. His head feels like it’s in a vice. “We weren’t going to leave the house all weekend. I stocked up on food and alcohol. And lube,” he adds, as an afterthought. “And not the boring kind, either. I got flavors, Rob. And the warming kind. And -”

“Joseph,” Robert whines. “Stop. We still aren’t going to leave all weekend. We’re gonna stay right here.” He pulls Joseph closer for emphasis. “This is good, baby.” He kisses across Joseph’s shoulders, beard scratching like Joseph knew it would.

Joseph sighs again, linking his fingers through the ones Robert has on his stomach. “Will you fuck me, like this, when we wake up?”

Robert makes a pained noise, hips pressing into Joseph’s ass briefly. Joseph grins. Everything he ever says is designed to wind Robert up. If he were feeling just a little stronger, he’d turn over and put Robert on his back. He knows he wouldn’t resist, at this point. But the sheets are still cool, and the pillow is so soft, and he really is so tired. And Robert feels so solid at his back, strong and hairy and heavy. At over six feet and two hundred pounds, there aren’t a lot of people who can make Joseph feel small. There’s no one in the world who can make Joseph feel small like Robert can, even if he’s technically the bigger of the two. His presence is just so big. It overwhelms all of Joseph’s senses. And those damn broad shoulders.

“I promise,” Robert is saying, voice muffled in Joseph’s neck, “we’ll get through at least one of those bottles of lube you bought this weekend. Even if it kills you.”

Joseph laughs, then coughs. Robert rubs his back apologetically.

“That’s generous of you,” he wheezes out, finally. Robert hugs him close, and Joseph closes his eyes, still cursing his luck but content with this. For now.

“Anything for you, darlin’.”