Archive of Our Own

Jensen loved his job, loved acting and working with the whole crew to get the show made, even when it was long hours in the rain freezing cold, or sweating through flannel and leather in July. Publicity wasn't his favorite thing, but after four seasons of Supernatural he'd gotten used to it, was miles more comfortable around journalists and their cameras than he'd been when the show started. The thing he really didn't like about doing a show in Vancouver, the thing that had him forgiving David Duchovny for fucking up the X-Files, was all the flying back and forth. Even with having Jared's place to stay at in Vancouver, the both of them ended up flying back to L.A. more weekends than not.

Their lives were weekdays sleeping at Jared's house in Vancouver, weekends at Jensen's condo in Los Angeles, and so many flights in between that Jensen recognized the flight crew at least half the time. Nothing could make him like it--not an iPod full of good music, not business first seats that gave him a couple extra inches of space, not years of experience that made getting through security routine. Having Jared next to him was the only thing that could make a flight better--Jared's warm hand on the back of his neck calming his nerves, Jared distracting him with magazine articles and gummy bears, Jared's shoulder to sleep on if Jensen could relax enough to drift off.

The season was over, the wrap party had been the night before, but at the last minute the effects crew had found that they didn't have the footage of Jared they needed to get the last few episodes in the can. The end result was that Jared had to stay in Vancouver a couple more days while Jensen flew back to make a meeting his agent had set up for him. Jared would drive down to L.A. with the dogs by himself. It sucked. A lot. And it really felt like the world was out to get him when Jensen spotted a crop of pimples starting along his hairline, just pink and small but enough to make a bad day feel worse.

The ridiculous thing was that Jensen hadn't had much to drink at the wrap party, just a couple of beers, but he felt massively hungover, like he'd tried to drink the entire crew under the table. Truth be told, he hadn't been feeling great; even the night before, he had felt more like going home and relaxing than partying. He tried to get comfortable in his seat and rest in order to not be completely wrecked for his meeting, but his whole body was sore, his stomach iffy, and the inside of the plane felt even colder than usual. The only upside was that the fifty-something businessman type sitting next to him apparently had no idea who he was and no desire to have any kind of conversation. Jensen closed his eyes, wrapped his jacket around himself, and leaned his head against the window, trying to pretend that he was leaning against Jared. Exhausted as he was, he managed to fall asleep.

~~~

The meeting was mediocre enough to feel like a disaster, but Jensen couldn't bring himself to care too much. He didn't think he'd said anything exceptionally stupid, but he knew he'd looked about as bleary as he felt, and it was hard to turn on the charm when all he wanted to do was curl up under the table with a blankie. Which is what he did as soon as he got back to his condo--not under the table, but on the couch, which was infinitely better.

The living room was dark when he woke up from a dream of being on a game show. He'd gotten a question wrong,again, and the buzzer went off,again, followed by irritating music, again And then he was on the couch, too warm under a blanket with his phone buzzing in his pocket playing Jared's ringtone. He was too slow getting it out of his pocket, but he called Jared right back without checking his voicemail.

"Jensen?" Jared's voice sounded sharper than he was used to hearing it when he wasn't being Sam.

"Hey," Jensen answered sleepily. "They let you go for the day?"

"Yeah, about half an hour ago. I've been trying to call; you're not still in that meeting, are you?"

"Nah, got out hours ago. Took a nap I guess." Jensen pushed himself to sit up but didn't have any inclination to stand up and get himself a bottle of water, even though his throat was dry.

"You're still tired? You know, you sound like shit. Are you sick?"

"Nah, just end of the season, you know how it is."

"You sure, Jen?" Jensen could hear the frown in Jared's voice. "You seemed kind of warm before you left this morning."

Jensen sighed and leaned back into the couch cushions. "Maybe I'm getting a cold or something, my luck."

"You think you should go to the doctor?"

"For a cold? No, Mother, I think I'll survive."

"Yeah, just take care of yourself, okay? I wish I was there."

"I wish you were, too. You leaving tomorrow?"

"Naw, they still need me tomorrow. I'm leaving Saturday morning, should get to you Sunday night."

"Okay. Tell your babies hi for me."

"I will. Hey, my dinner's here, but I love you, Jen."

"Love you, too."

Jensen turned the phone off and put it back in his pocket. He knew he should really get up, make something to eat, take a shower, but he just didn't feel like it. He took his contacts out and made sure his glasses were nearby, then mashed the pillow he'd been using back into shape and laid back down, pulling the blanket up against the returning chill.

~~~

Jared woke up Friday morning and took the dogs for a run at dawn, then took a shower and got ready to head in to set for his 8am call time. He checked his e-mail in the van on the way to set and thought about calling Jensen to check on him, but no way would Jensen be happy about being woken up before nine on a day off, sick or not. Jared frowned as he put his phone away and tried not to let himself worry about Jensen. It wasn't like a cold or just being run down was a big deal, but it seemed like a lot of people were getting sick lately, and Jared had a bad feeling about it. It wasn't even two months since they'd lost Kim, and Jared felt like that was kind of hanging over everything.

He figured that's why it suddenly felt like more of a big deal when Shelly in the costume department got appendicitis and one of the little kids guest stars came down with chickenpox. And really, Jared was totally with his mom on not getting people who wouldn't let their kids get vaccines. The poor kid was on set when she broke out with the rash, and she looked miserable as hell. Jared was just glad he'd been too young to remember when he got chickenpox, but his mom liked to show people the picture she had of him with a rash all over and wearing nothing but underpants and mittens.

His mom maybe had a demented sense of humor.

Jared finally gave into his worry and called Jensen when he got a break at 10. The call rang over to voice mail twice, and Jared's worry, irrational as he knew it probably was, cranked up higher with each ring. He tried to tell himself that Jensen was just in the shower, but when he finally picked up he sounded worse than he had the day before, his voice low and muddled.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I woke you up. Just wanted to check on you."

"Mmm, s'okay. I was up a while ago, but I guess I fell back to sleep." A faint scratching sound came from somewhere near the phone.

"You feel any better? Jen, you sound like crap."

"Thanks. Um, just tired still, but I think your dogs gave me fleas."

"Fleas! Dude, my dogs do not have fleas. They get their pills every month. Did you have Chris over with his mangy mutt?"

"No. Just, my head itches and my stomach, and they must have left fleas in the couch. It's kinda driving me crazy. And giving me a headache."

None of what Jensen was saying sounded right to Jared, and he really didn't like how weak and scattered Jensen's voice was. If only he were there in L.A., he'd be able to tell if something was really wrong. "Jen, hey, do you have a fever?"

"I dunno." Jensen sighed. "I'm kinda hot and cold sometimes. Achy."

"I think you should go to the doctor. Make sure you're not coming down with something while you're there by yourself."

"Aw, Jay, it's not that big a deal. I just, I don't want to go anywhere, just wanna lay here."

"But--" Jared cut himself off. There was no way he could make Jensen go to the doctor if he was bound and determined to sweat it out at home. "Tell me you're at least keeping yourself hydrated."

"Mmm, I'll get something to drink soon, promise."

Jared felt his worry crank up a notch. "So that's a no?"

"I said I would. Jesus, Jared." Jensen sighed heavily into the silence, and Jared could hear him scratching some more. "Sorry, just feel crappy. Call me later?"

"You know I will. Love you."

"Loveyoutoo," Jensen slurred before the call disconnected.

Something was seriously not right, and Jared figured that if he couldn't be in L.A. right then, he knew plenty of other people who were. He just had to find somebody Jensen wouldn't be completely pissed off about finding at his doorstep. Jared started making calls—only to find out that Chris and Steve were both out of town working, Jason was visiting his family back east, and Danneel wasn't answering her phone. Chad was in town, but he'd only make Jensen more intractable than he already was. Jared figured Jeff was massively busy these days doing movies all over the place, but when he finally took the chance and called, it turned out Jeff was in L.A. and had already wrapped up his business for the day.

"Look man, I'm probably being crazy here, but I think Jensen should go to the doctor, and he's never going to go at all. I'm not even sure he's moved from the couch since he got home last night, and I just--"

"You're worried, it's okay." Jeff's calm voice and the fact that he sounded willing to help smoothed out some of the rough edges of Jared's worry. "I'll go check on him, and if it looks like he needs to see somebody, I'll get him an appointment, drag him there if I have to."

"God, you're awesome. You'll call me and tell me what's going on?"

"You know I will. Now take a deep breath and relax before you burst something, okay?"

"Okay." Jared closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling some of his tension go out with the exhalation. "Thanks again, Jeff. I'll talk to you soon."

"I'm on my way now." Jeff hung up, and Jared did his best to shake off his worry so he could get his scenes done and get back to the house early. The earlier he got up the next morning, the sooner he could get back to Jensen.

~~~

Jensen woke up to a knock at the door and his cell ringing. His first thought was Jared, but there was no way he'd slept through to Sunday night, and anyway Jared had a key, and the ringtone he was hearing wasn't Jared's. None of it made sense. He picked up his phone but everything was too blurry to read. He fumbled for his glasses and finally managed to make out Jeff's name, but then the knocking at the door started up again. When he sat up, Jensen could hear somebody saying his name through the door. The voice low and gruff, and weirdly enough it sounded a lot like Jeff's.

Jensen pushed off the blanket and stood up, waiting a moment for the room to catch up with him, then shuffled to the door. He pulled the door open, and what the hell, it really was Jeff. "Hey." Jensen leaned against the doorjamb and rested his head against the cool painted wood.

"Oh man, you look like shit." Jeff frowned, his forehead wrinkling up, and then he reached out a hand and palmed Jensen's cheek. He pushed up the hem of Jensen's shirt before Jensen batted his hand away and then patted Jensen on the arm, shaking his head. "Come on, sit down, you're going to the doctor."

"No 'm not." Still, Jensen didn't fight as Jeff led him to sit down on a chair in the kitchen. His head felt heavy, so he slumped forward, resting his forehead on the heel of one hand.

Jeff put a tumbler full of water and ice on the table and nudged it toward Jensen's free hand. "Come on, drink that. You probably need it."

Jensen sighed, but he picked up the glass and drank, idly scratching at the ridiculously itchy flea bites on his head while Jeff walked around talking to somebody on the phone. He was starting to get the idea that Jared had called Jeff to check on him, and that was so completely unnecessary and so like Jared that Jensen didn't know whether to smile or be pissed off. At least he hadn't sent Chad.

Jeff came and sat down at the table next to Jensen, his phone no longer out. "I got you in to see my doctor. She's a friend too, so she agreed to squeeze you in on her lunch break, but we have to leave in the next few minutes to make it on time."

"Swear to God, Jeff. I'm just tired." Jensen scratched at his stomach. "And the fleas, you know. I'll be fine."

"Jensen. Those are not flea bites. They're chickenpox, and given that you're not exactly ten years old you need to go see the doctor."

"No." Jensen shook his head; that didn't make any sense at all. "I had it when I was a kid."

"Well, you know, either you didn't really have it back then or you're lucky enough to get it again, or I suck at playing doctor and you have something else. But they're not flea bites, I've seen more than enough of those to know the difference." Jeff stood up and took Jensen's arm again. "Now come on, I saw your shoes back by the couch."

Jensen stood up and ran a hand through his hair. "I need a shower."

Jeff huffed out a laugh. "That's 100% true, but there's no time right now. Believe me, the time Leslie's put in working in clinics downtown, she's smelled worse. Now let's go." Jeff kept a hold on Jensen while he stepped into his sneakers and then grabbed Jensen's wallet and phone off the coffee table. Before Jensen knew it, he was in Jeff's car, his seat belt was on, and they were headed for the highway on-ramp. The afternoon light was way too bright, and Jensen wished for his sunglasses rather than his regular glasses, which were just setting up a glare that made his head hurt. With nothing else to do, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Jeff would wake him up when they got there.

~~~

Jeff called Leslie when he was pulling into the parking lot outside her practice, and by the time he'd managed to wake Jensen up and shepherd him inside, she was waiting for them at the door. She took Jensen straight back to an exam room and pointed Jeff toward her office where he could wait in private. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Jared, @ the dr's office with Jensen. He'd call Jared once he knew more, until then he didn't really want to get drilled for information he didn't have.

Jared had been right, though. When he'd called up, bouncing off the walls from anxiety over what might be wrong with Jensen, Jeff had figured he was being overprotective. Still, he had the afternoon free, and he never got to see Jensen or Jared as much as he wanted to, so he got Bisou set with an early dinner and headed off to check on Jensen. When he answered the door, slumped against the wall with his face pale and blotchy, eyes squinting behind his glasses, Jeff was glad as hell he hadn't blown Jared off. When he felt Jensen's fever and saw the blisters coming up under his hair and on his stomach, it was doctor time for sure.

Leslie would take care of Jensen and let Jeff know what to watch out for. Things would be okay; he'd just have to convince Jared of that. It wasn't much more than ten minutes later when Leslie walked into the office and plopped down in the chair next to Jeff with the smack of ass on leather that made Jeff think of old times. "So, what's the verdict?"

"Adult chickenpox, definitely. He doesn't remember the actual blisters and itching from getting the disease as a kid, so I think it might have been a case of parental misdiagnosis. Right now, his fever's not too high; he's a little dehydrated, but I'm pretty sure that can be resolved orally. When he finally believed me that he really has chickenpox, he got a little freaked out about the possibility of getting scars from the blisters, especially in visible areas like his face." Leslie blew out a breath and rolled her head around to stretch her neck.

"I don't think it's entirely necessary from a medical standpoint," she continued, "but I'm going to put him on some anti-virals, which should keep the number of blisters down and help them go away faster with less scarring if he starts on it right away. As a plus, they should make it less likely he'll get any of the nastier complications. The downside is that they might make him feel sicker than the chickenpox would on its own for a couple days, but he seems to feel like that's a fair bargain."

"Sick how?"

"Vomiting, maybe, probably not anything too dramatic. Somebody should keep an eye on him to make sure he keeps liquids down and doesn't get a fever over 103. Other than that, he just needs to rest, push liquids, eat what he can keep down and avoid scratching as much as possible. If he starts coughing bring him back in because pneumonia's a concern with adults." She held up a hand when Jeff cringed. "Just something to keep an eye out for. I'm going to call in the prescription for the Zovirax to the drive-through Walgreens down the street, and I'll write up a list of over-the-counter things that might help with the itching."

Jeff looped an arm over Leslie's shoulders and squeezed. "You rock, as always."

She shook her head and grinned. "I'm glad you brought him in. He's laying down in the exam room right now, but I'll get you some info sheets and you can get him out of here."

"Okay. Don't be surprised if you get a call later from his freaked out boyfriend."

Leslie smirked. "Duly warned."

In the car ten minutes later, waiting in the drive-through lane at the pharmacy, Jeff bit the bullet and called Jared.

"What's going on? Is he okay?"

"He has chickenpox." Jeff continued over Jared's hissed Shit! "The doctor's giving him a prescription that should make his case of chickenpox a lot milder but might make him feel crappy in the short term. We mostly just have to get him hydrated and let him rest."

"Okay," Jared said. "Okay." Jeff could almost see him, pacing back and forth on the Supernatural lot with his phone clutched tight in his hand. "Thank you so much for getting him seen so fast."

"It's not a problem, but look, I have to head out to New York first thing tomorrow. I'd stay if I could, but I committed weeks ago and--"

"No, no, I understand. Crap, there's no way I can get down there before Sunday afternoon even if I drive most of the day."

"And your dogs would hate that. Who do you think I should call? I really don't think he's up to taking care of himself for over a day."

"No, man. Let me think a sec." Jeff could hear the scuff of shoes against gravel; Jared must have let his hand drop away from his head as he paced around. Eventually, the pacing sound stopped. "Fuck it, I'mma fly down there this evening. I'll get my PA to drive the dogs down and finish closing up the house for the spring."

Jeff looked over at Jensen, sleeping curled up in the passenger seat, new blisters visible on his face and arms that hadn't been there when they left Jensen's condo. He'd be happy to see Jared sooner rather than later. "Sounds like a plan, dude. See you tonight."

~~~

Jensen woke up to the feeling of a hand jostling his shoulder and something hard against the side of his face that made the arm of his glasses pinch behind his ear. He opened his eyes and registered the outside of his condo, the parking lot, Jeff's car. He turned his head. Oh, Jeff.

"Ready to head inside?"

Jensen nodded, and Jeff disappeared from the inside of the car, reappearing next to Jensen's side of the car a moment later. He sat up straight—or tried to—as Jeff pulled the door open and then swung his legs out to stand up. Unfortunately, the bottom half of his body wasn't entirely on board with the being awake thing, because his knees went wobbly and suddenly Jensen had a faceful of cotton. Jeff's t-shirt, the faint scent of Jeff's cologne, Jeff's arms around his back. Jensen blinked against the sting of just wanting it to be Jared, no matter how nice Jeff was, and forced his knees to hold his weight.

Jeff took a half-step away, his hands still on Jensen's shoulders. "You okay?"

Jensen nodded and turned to walk to his door. He felt the faint pressure of Jeff's hand on his back the whole way. Inside, Jeff steered Jensen to the kitchen table again and put a couple of horse pills in front of him along with a glass of Jared's disgusting grape Gatorade and a cold cheese sandwich. The icy coldness of the Gatorade felt good, made the pills go down easier, but Jensen gave up halfway through the sandwich.

When he stood up from the table, he felt steady enough that he figured he could make it through a quick shower without falling on his face. If Jared were there--Jensen stomped on the thought as he rubbed at the rash on his back. He leaned against the side of the fridge and looked at Jeff where he sat reading over the papers from the doctor's office. "I'm gonna take a shower, so, you know, you can head home if you want. I'm sure you have other shit to take care of."

"No way, kid. I'm staying until your boy gets home."

"But...the whole weekend? What about your dog?"

"I guess you weren't as awake as I thought when I told you--Jared's coming home tonight. As soon as he can get on a flight."

"Oh." Relief swamped over Jensen and he closed his eyes, hating the fact that being sick always made him overemotional. As he leaned more heavily on the fridge, he felt Jeff's hand on his arm again and opened his eyes to see Jeff looking at him with nothing but understanding in his eyes.

"Come on, if a fictional father can't help out his fictional son, who can?" Jeff herded Jensen down the hall to the bathroom and got the water going before leaving Jensen to his own devices with a promise to come back with clean clothes.

For Jensen, the shower was a mixed blessing—the water washed away the greasy feeling of laying around in the same clothes for two days, but even the medium-warm temperature Jeff had set stung his blistered skin. His attempt at shampooing his hair was short-lived, the shampoo and water burning the pox that hid under his hair. Still, it was better than nothing, and when Jensen stepped out he was glad to get into the clean flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt that Jeff had left.

He didn't even bother putting his glasses back on, just walked straight to the bedroom and climbed under the covers, falling asleep before he had time to miss Jared's presence next to him. He surfaced again some time later at the sound of Jeff's voice, swallowed some more horse pills and Tylenol and some more grape Gatorade, and fell back asleep without even opening his eyes all the way. The next thing he knew was waking up to a harsh twist of nausea in his stomach and an aching tension in his jaw that told him he needed to get up NOW.

He stumbled down the blurry hallway and fell to his knees in front of the toilet, puking up grape-colored bile and choking on the bitterness of half-digested pills. He was gagging on the taste, unable to get it all the way out, when he felt a hand on his back, a cup of water at his lips, Jared's voice in his ear. If not all of the tears on his cheeks came from puking, Jensen was pretty sure Jared would give him a pass.

~~~

Jared crouched behind Jensen's shuddering shape and tried to think of a way to be there for him that wouldn't make his back and/or knees want to secede from the union. The flight had been a bitch--business and first class both booked solid for every flight that would get him home Friday night meant hours in coach with his knees jacked up and his back tense from trying to hold his shoulders where they wouldn't be in everybody's way. He kept trying to focus on getting home to take care of Jensen, but it wasn't easy to keep on track when a hard plastic seat was trying to inhabit the space where his bones wanted to be.

The cab ride back to Jensen's condo from the airport took way too long, but getting there was a huge relief. The beer and sandwich Jeff pointed him at as soon as he came through the door went a long way toward helping Jared feel something like human again. And Jeff was a godsend, seriously, coming over to drag Jensen to the doctor, getting some other friend of his to bring over a couple of drugstore bags full of random shit that might help Jensen feel better over the next few days. Jared couldn't help but throw his arms around Jeff and Jeff returned the favor without hesitation, which really was just one more reason he was awesome.

Jared looked at the papers Jeff handed him and nodded his head at the rundown of what had gone on, and when he saw Jeff off to go get ready for his own flight he wanted nothing more than to go check up on Jensen. Maybe watch him sleep while he ate another sandwich and stretched and breathed and reminded himself that the season was over and Jensen would be okay. Instead, as he shut the door behind Jeff, he heard Jensen's footsteps in the hallway behind him, the thud of knees on tile, and Jensen trying to turn himself inside out.

Jared hovered outside the door for a moment, wishing helplessly for his mother to be there to take care of things. Or maybe Jensen's mom. Or Jeff could come back. Jensen gagged, sounding like he was tearing his throat up on nothing, and Jared nudged himself into the room. Jensen's back was bent over the toilet, his t-shirt riding up in the back to show a lurid red rash, and Jared swallowed hard. Jeff had said the pills were making Jensen sick, so he figured the first step was getting the taste out of Jensen's mouth. His hands were white-knuckled, clenched on the toilet seat, so Jared bent down behind him and put a hand on Jensen's back, and the cup to Jensen's mouth.

He could feel the blisters through the thin, sweaty cotton of Jensen's shirt and see more of them on his face. Tears of sickness or frustration stood out below Jensen's closed eyes, and suddenly Jared didn't want anybody else to be there in his place. "I'm here, babe," he said, starting to rub Jensen's back and then stopping for fear of hurting his inflamed skin. "Sorry it took me so long."

Jensen didn't reply, just gagged on his first couple mouthfuls of water, but then he managed to keep a few sips down and he relaxed back into Jared's arms. Jared flushed the toilet then pressed a kiss to his forehead, and Jensen leaned into it for a moment before twitching away.

"Think you can get back to bed? Jeff said you should rest."

"I think--" Jensen pulled away, wriggling his shoulders around before reaching back to scratch at his back. "I think I hate this shit." He twisted again and pulled his shirt off in one wrenching movement, revealing more blisters all over his torso. "And my shirt's making me itch more."

"Okay. Okay, no need to wear a shirt for me." Jared stood and looked around the room then closed the toilet seat. "Come on, can you sit up here?"

Jensen looked up with bleary, irritated eyes, but he let Jared help him up to sit on the toilet seat before leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The sheets Jeff had printed out for him said something about cool compresses, so Jared ran the water in the tap until it was cold then soaked one of Jensen's thick hand towels. He squeezed out just enough water to keep it from being a mess then laid the sodden cloth over Jensen's red-pocked back. Jensen tensed, then sighed and relaxed down until his head hung just over his legs.

When the cloth was warm, Jared soaked it again and urged Jensen to lean back against the toilet tank so that he could put it on his chest. Jensen's head dropped back against the porcelain, and Jared sponged a cold soaked washcloth over the blisters on Jensen's face, careful not to rub them raw.

"Think you can get back to bed?"

Jensen nodded shallowly and then swallowed hard. "Think so."

Jared put the washcloth on the edge of the sink and ducked down to wrap one arm around Jensen's back. "Come on, you'll be more comfortable."

"Mmm, more comfortable when I stop feeling like I've got fucking fire ants all over me."

"Gross."

Jensen stood up and turned to the sink then turned back to look at Jared, his eyes wide."Wait. Wait, you had this, right? I'm not gonna give it to you?"

"I had it. I don't remember, but I've seen all the embarassing pictures."

"Lucky." Jensen brushed his teeth and then turned to walk out of the bathroom. "Why I had to wait until thirty to get this I have no idea."

For some crazy reason, Jensen's crankiness made Jared feel better about the whole thing. Like, Jensen was sick but he wasn't on the verge of succoming to some of the really bad complications Jared had read about on his phone. He was just Jensen, sick and rashy and pissed off. "Always knew you were special."

"Fuck off." Jensen shucked out of his pajama pants before he rolled under the covers, giving Jared a quick glimpse of blisters scattered on his ass and thighs.

"Is it going to bother you if I come to bed too? Just as soon as I get cleaned up?"

"It's your bed, too." Jensen mumbled, moving around in the bed like he was trying to scrub his back against the sheets.

"Okay," Jared answered quietly, trying not to take any of it personally. "I'll be quick."

Jared grabbed his bag from the living room and then jumped into the shower to get rid of the grime of the long day and the plane. He turned off the light as he walked back into the bedroom and tossed his towel at the hamper as he climbed in next to Jensen. He listened to the sound of Jensen's palms rubbing over his skin, and when he heard it turn to the scratch of nails he reached over to still Jensen's hands.

"I have to itch," Jensen panted. His face was flushed, and Jared put a hand on his forehead to make sure he didn't feel any warmer than he had earlier.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself." Jared rolled over close behind Jensen's tense back and started rubbing circles over Jensen's chest and stomach. "Is this okay?"

"Sort of." Jensen squirmed and then relaxed with a sigh. "Sorry I'm being a bitch."

"Nothing I'm not used to."

Jensen snorted and then went quiet. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

Jared wasn't sure if Jensen stopepd itching enough to relax or if the exhaustion of the irritation and the puking and the low-grade fever Jared could feel on his skin just wore him out enough that even the fire ants couldn't keep him awake. Either way, he fell asleep, and Jared followed right behind.

~~~

Jensen woke up with a vague memory of Jared making him swallow pills and juice and water and sticking a thermometer in his ear. His stomach was in a similar sort of vague state—not trying to exit his body, but nowhere near hungry either. This time it was the itching rather than the nausea that woke him up, and he was getting really sick of it. He wished that he was six years old, that he could hide under the covers where his mom couldn't see him and just scratch himself bloody not caring about scars or infections or anything like that.

The itch in his brain made him wantHe wanted to scratch until there was no rash left on his body to even be itchy, but at the same time he couldn't help being rational, couldn't help knowing that he'd be fucked hard if he came out the other side of this covered in scars that no chemical peel could get rid of. Even aside from his face, his career, he didn't want to have to remember this misery every time he looked in a mirror and every time he thought about somebody else looking at him.

Somebody like Jared. Because Jared was being sweet, coming home and taking care of him when he was sick and pathetic, but Jensen knew the visuals right then were a hot mess. He rolled over in bed, considering the possibility of staying there all day feeling sorry for himself, just as Jared walked back into the bedroom. The side of the bed dipped as Jared sat down.

"Hey, morning." Jared's hand rubbed the covers over Jensen's hip.

"Morning." Jensen gave in and rolled over, sitting up.

"I ran a bath for you, if you want. It's, uh, with this stuff that's supposed to help with the itching."

"Yeah?" A bath sounded good, less itching sounded better. "Thanks, Jay."

Jared rubbed the back of his head. "You might not want to thank me too much until you see it."

That didn't sound good, but Jensen figured he could take it like a man, whatever it was. He climbed out of bed and shuffled don the hallway, his joints sore from the fever and too much time in bed, his head still fuzzy from sleep. What he saw in the tub made his stomach flip over and he leaned against Jared as he took in the full horror.

"It might work," Jared said, sounding less than convinced.

"It's a vat of watery oatmeal." Jensen swallowed. "I don't even eat oatmeal."

"You do so, I've seen you."

"Okay, sometimes maybe, but not watery like that. Jesus."

Jared rubbed a hand over Jensen's shoulder blades. "Can it be worse than having chickenpox on your balls?"

Jensen looked down, cringing. He'd forgotten to put on boxers, damnit. There went saving Jared from the worst of the visuals. "Alright, okay, I'm going in."

Jared kept a hand on his arm as he got inside, which was really nice even though Jensen felt steadier than he had the day before. The oatmeal swill felt a lot more like water than oatmeal, which was something. It didn't smell like much of anything, and Jensen stretched out as much as he could, thankful for the large tub that came with his condo.

"You think you'll be okay here for a while?" Jensen nodded, feeling the bath start to blunt the edge of the itchiness. "You're not gonna pass out and drown?"

"M'okay."

Jared left, but Jensen didn't hear the bathroom door close behind him. He slipped under the water to get his head wet, clenching his eyes and mouth closed and holding his nose to keep the oatmeal water from seeping inside. It was peaceful in there, full of the underwater sounds of water dripping and his heart beating in his ears. When he sat up he rested his head back against the shower wall and closed his eyes; the last thing he wanted to do was sit around and stare at his own red-pocked body.

~~~

After showering off the oatmeal gunk and getting dressed in the softest clothes Jared could find, Jensen managed to swallow some soup with his collection of pills before laying back down. He wasn't any too sure about the soup staying down, but in the middle of concentrating on not throwing up he fell asleep. The rest of the day passed like that--sleeping and liquids and pills and itching, but a lot more sleeping and less itching than Jensen felt like he ought to expect.

"These antivirals are knocking me the fuck out," he told Jared, belatedly aware that he sounded like a whiney third grader with a foul mouth.

"Well, it's probably not just the antiviral." Jared gave him a lopsided smile, his cheeks suddenly a little flushed.

"Huh?"

"I read online that antihistamines really help with the itching, let you rest--" Jared held up a hand to forestall the sixteen pissed off things Jensen wanted to say. "And I know you hate taking anything that knocks you out, but you were suffering, Jen."

Jensen took a deep breath through his nose and then let it go slowly. "It was just itching."

"You didn't see yourself." Jared sat down on the side of the bed and looked down at his hands.

"You should have asked me. You know I hate stuff that makes me feel fuzzy."

"You're sick, it's okay to be fuzzy." Jared reached out and ran his fingers lightly over the growing stubble on Jensen's cheek. "And I'm here to take care of you."

"I get it. And I trust you, okay?" Jared looked up then, relief on his face, and Jensen wanted to shake him but he didn't have the energy to shake even the covers off. "You know I do," he whispered.

"I'll ask you next time."

"Tomorrow, let's save it for nighttime so I can at least try to be a living human being for part of the day."

"Okay." Jared nodded. "I do like you better awake than unconscious."

"That's incredibly heartening."

Jared laughed and kissed Jensen straight on his dry-lipped mouth. Jensen didn't even bother trying to push him away.