#jaq carrying phin about is becoming a theme

[jumpship90]

Flufftober, Day 6 - Fireman's carry

Today's bit of writing for @flufftober2021 was partly inspired by this @galaxymermaid214 drawing of Jaq assisting Captain Aayla with her Phineas across the multiverse. Thanks for the inspiration!

Roughly 700 words of Jaq/Phin fluff below the cut

“AAACHOO!”

The noise echoed about the laboratory, followed by several loud sniffles and a muted, croaky cough. Jaq frowned as they lent against the doorframe, arms folded over their chest. A few feet away, Phineas sat huddled over a microscope, his body twitching as he shivered, his skin pale and feverish.

“Ahem, hem, hem,” he spluttered, then blew his nose into a handkerchief hurriedly fished from a jacket pocket.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

His head snapped up. His eyes looked red, his nose as bright as a landing beacon where he’d been rubbing at it. He shrugged, tucking the handkerchief away.

“Studying tobaccorn seeds. That batch you had shipped up from the stash at the old Rizzo’s mansion has proved very enlightening. Did you know -?”

“- You’re meant to be in bed,” Jaq cut him off, crossing the floor quickly, the metal plates of the deck ringing beneath their boots. “You can deal with this another day – once you’ve recovered.”

“Bah!” Phineas exclaimed. “I’m perfectly fine. It’s just a mild bout of colonists-cold. Nothing to worry about . . .”

His protestations were somewhat undermined by the coughing fit he promptly descended into. His shoulders shook with the force of it and Jaq rubbed a hand across his back, concern warring with frustration.

When Phineas finally managed to get himself under control, they brushed aside his wild hair to press the back of their hand to his forehead. Their eyes widened. He was burning up, his skin clammy to the touch.

“Phin, come on, you’re not well.”

He was near swaying on his stool and barely looked awake. They’d always admired his tenacity but this was ridiculous.

“Remember how you insisted I sleep loads after surgery?” they argued. “All that stuff you told me about proteins and the immune system and, uhh, those cells, the . . . what were they called?”

“T cells,” he supplied, followed by another cough. “It’s not the same. This is just a sniffle. Besides, there’s work to be done. There’s no time to be lazing about in bed.”

He rose from his desk, began a slow shuffle to the centrifuge, and promptly wobbled sideways, catching himself with an unsteady hand against a workbench. They made a decision.

Before he could argue any further, Jaq halted him in his tracks and in one swift movement, hoisted him over their shoulder. Phineas yelped.

“Jaq! Put me down! I am not a child!”

He huffed and puffed and wriggled in aggravation. They locked their arms around him and marched for the door.

“Correct. You’re a grouchy, stubborn, infuriating old man.”

They ignored his muted complaints and coughs and pressed the door release with their elbow. It hissed open.

“One who I happen to love very much and would like to spend many years with. So you’re going to rest, and you’re going to get healthy, and then you can get back to being brilliant again.”

He gave a dramatic sigh at that and flopped against them, hands clutching at their shirt, apparently resigned to his fate.

“This is highly undignified,” he muttered.

Jaq paused. They likely would have to pass his colleagues in the corridor on their return to his quarters and they had no particular desire to embarrass him. But then again, he had brought this on himself.

“If I put you down, are you going to argue with me?”

“No, dear,” he grumbled.

They set him down carefully. He still appeared unstable, even with his weight resting against them.

“Would you like me to carry you?”

“It . . . might be necessary,” Phineas conceded eventually. “Perhaps I am a little under the weather.”

Jaq rolled their eyes but didn’t hesitate to lift him into their arms.

“I’ll bring you your research papers to read if you really want them,” they offered as they made their way to their shared room. “Or we can watch a serial together? I’ll make that sweet tea you like and some proper homemade soup.”

Perhaps plying him with treats would make him a little more amenable to actually remaining in bed.