Sick Day

SICK DAY

DELETED CHAPTER BETWEEN CHAPTERS 41 AND 42

T his is just allergies. No way am I sick.

Groaning, I lifted my head from the sink and stared at my flushed face in the mirror. Glassy, reddened eyes and nose. Shivering despite the sweat dripping down my back.

This was no mere hangover. This was definitely the flu.

My mother appeared horrified when I trudged into the kitchen with a tissue held to my nose. My sister took one look at me, grabbed her bowl of cereal, and fled from the table.

"Remember, your father and I are leaving for that couples' getaway," Mom said in a rush, checking her watch and huffing in irritation. "If the driver would ever show up. Roger! Call them again!"

"They'll be here," my father said dryly, hidden behind his newspaper.

"I'll be fine, Mom." I took a couple ibuprofen and grabbed a box of crackers, barely stifling a sneeze.

Mom paused, as if suddenly realizing I looked miserable. "You should have some soup, hon. And lay down." Her hands fluttered nervously as I coughed. "Try not to touch anything."

Mom had never been a parent who was particularly attentive to a sick child. Not that I needed her to hold my hand — I looked gross and felt grosser. Since my parents would be gone and Stephanie wouldn't be coming near me, I had several days of total isolation to look forward to.

My head felt like it was full of sloshing liquid as I lay down in bed and grabbed my phone. A text was waiting for me in the group chat, from Vincent.

I'm afraid we can't play today, baby. Jason is sick and needs a full-time nurse.

Even miserable as I was, I giggled at the thought of Vincent in a nurse costume. I text back, Same here, I feel like crap. Parents left for the weekend so at least I won't be quarantined in my room. I'll talk to you later. Love you 3

Setting the phone aside, I curled into a ball and pulled the covers over my head. Shivering in a cold sweat, I fell into a feverish sleep.

A knock at my door snapped me awake. Without emerging from my nest, I called out, "Yeah?"

The door swung open, and I poked my head out. Steph stood there with her shirt pulled over her mouth and nose, and said, "There's a bunch of guys here to see you. They disabled the alarm and told me to talk to you before I call the cops, so…"

Maybe this was a fever dream. I sat up slowly, every muscle and joint protesting as I stared at my sister with aching eyes. "There's…who?"

"Surprise!" Vincent popped into the doorway, flanked by Lucas, Manson, and Jason. "On-call nurses reporting for duty!" Steph was still regarding Vincent with heavy suspicion, but he turned and gave her a bright smile. "See? Told ya she knows us!"

My sister didn't look impressed, but I was. Manson entered my room, holding a plastic bag from which delicious smells were arising.

"We picked up ramen on the way here," he said, setting the bag on my desk and taking a seat on my mattress. "How are you feeling?"

"Like the living dead," I said, pulling my blankets up self-consciously. They'd seen me in degrading situations plenty of times, but this was different. My skin was breaking out, I couldn't breathe through my nose. I was, in every way, the opposite of sexy.

But I still sighed contentedly when Manson laid the back of his hand against my forehead. Considering how cool his skin felt, my fever must have gotten worse. "Oh God, don't look at me, I look awful. I don't want to get you all sick."

"We already have our own plague victims," Vincent said cheerfully, hooking his thumb toward Jason and Lucas. Jason was obviously ill; his face was as pale, reddened, and puffy as my own. Wearing an oversized Pikachu hoodie and Rugrats pajama pants, he shuffled over to the bed, collapsed dramatically onto the mattress, and dragged himself up toward the pillows like a dying caterpillar.

"I'm going back to sleep," he mumbled, wrapping one arm around my waist. "You smell so good, Jess."

A lie, surely. I smelled like sweat and looked more like a sickly Victorian waif than a grown woman.

Manson, as always, read the uncertainty on my face. His tone was gentle, reassuring. "We figured if we're all germy anyway, we may as well be together."

"Besides, some of us weren't lazy about getting our flu shots this season," said Vincent, giving Lucas a teasing nudge with his elbow.

Lucas looked volatile as he stalked into the room, hands shoved deep in his sweatpant pockets. "Don't be afraid to tell us to fuck off if you don't want us here, Jess," he said. His voice was several octaves deeper than usual. "Personally, I don't think we should be botherin' people when they're ill. I should be working today anyway —" He stopped, doubling over with a coughing fit. "Don't — don't need a bunch of — clingers."

"You're not going to work." Manson's strained-but-patient tone told me he probably had been repeating that sentence all morning. "You need to come lay down."

"I need to go smoke," Lucas grumbled, and I made a face.

"Not while you're sick," I said, my voice cracking. "Your poor lungs."

Lucas groaned, the fight melting out of him as he looked at me. "Fine, fine. But I still don't need y'all hovering over me. You're all giving me a headache."

He sat on the end of my bed, arms folded. He looked so much like an angry, pouting kid that it made me giggle, and then Jason did the same, which made me laugh harder.

"They're in hysterics, the fever has them," Vincent said dramatically. "We might have to strap them down, Manson."

Jason lifted his head just enough to blow a loud raspberry at his boyfriend. "Don't threaten me with a good time, Daddy."

Manson lifted his eyebrows with a laugh. "That's a new one, J."

"Let's get something in your stomach besides cough syrup, babe." Vincent winked as he handed Jason and I our steaming bowls of ramen. He distributed everyone's bowls before settling down with his own, seated in my desk chair.

Minutes of contented silence passed, broken only by the sound of slurping noodles. The thick, warm broth comforted my aching body and eased the shakes out of my limbs.

With my belly full, I almost felt human again. I lay down, pressing my back against Jason, who swiftly wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair.

"I didn't expect you guys to do all this," I said. "Thank you."

Manson set aside his bowl, moving up the bed to sit closer beside me. I rested my head on his lap as Jason held me from behind. "We're happy to do it. We weren't going to leave you to fend for yourself all weekend." He stroked my hair, a gentle rhythmic movement that lulled me half to sleep. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, now that I've eaten." I smiled tiredly. "I think it's time for another ibuprofen."

"I've got you," Manson said quickly, hopping up from the bed and tapping Vincent's arm. "Are you going to whip up that gross tea your mom used to make?"

Vincent's eyes brightened. "Oh yeah! The flu killer. I remember the recipe. Jess, which way is the kitchen? And do y'all have a bottle of apple cider vinegar somewhere?"

"I'll show you the kitchen," Lucas began, but Manson whipped around, pointing a finger at him.

"Sit. Don't move your ass from the bed. I'll show Vince the kitchen."

"God, fine , fuck me then!" Lucas sulked, arms folded tighter than ever. "Damn…maniac…"

A muscle in Manson's jaw twitched. If I had been Lucas, I would have pulled my head into my shoulders like a turtle. But Lucas only glared, and Manson took the slowest, deepest breath I'd ever seen.

He and Vincent left, their footsteps fading away down the stairs. There was a distant sound of cabinets closing, and a blender running. I imagined the state Vince usually left the kitchen in, and internally cringed.

Lucas leaned against the wall, eyes half-lidded. He obviously hadn't shaved in a couple days, and his posture was tired, sunken. He looked so miserable, I sat up and stretched my arms toward him.

He looked at me with utter confusion. "What?"

"Come here, dummy." I made a grabbing motion with my hands. "Let me hold you." He ducked his head, and I wasn't sure if his reddened cheeks were from illness or embarrassment. "Cuddle with me. Lay your head right here." I leaned against the headboard, patting my chest as I added teasingly, "I don't have a bra on…"

Finally, I got a smile out of him. He crawled up the bed to lay himself on my chest, sighing heavily as he sunk onto me. The weight of him was comforting. I rubbed my hand up and down his back, my nails scratching him softly.

"I guess Jason is knocked out, huh?" he said.

I nodded. The blue-haired boy had started snoring almost as soon as he finished his ramen.

Lucas snuggled his face against my shirt. "That feels nice."

Smiling, I continued scratching his back in silence. Eventually, the tension went out of his arms. His head grew heavier and he sniffled.

"Need a tissue?" I offered, but he shook his head.

"Nah. Just let me be gross and unhappy."

I laughed, even though I understood how he felt. "If it helps, I think you look really cute when you're sick."

He wrinkled his nose. "Nope. That would be you."

We snuggled for a while longer, until the question burning inside me couldn't be contained anymore.

"Do you like being alone when you're sick?" I asked softly. "Or are you just used to…being left alone?"

"I have too much of a fever for you to ask me a question like that," he grumbled. "You know how it is, Jess. You get used to things being a certain way, you learn not to expect shit. That's life. We all gotta suck it up sometimes."

My fingers drew slow circles on his back as I mulled over his words. "I guess so. When I was a kid, my mom thought it was so gross when I would get sick. She hated the runny nose, the sneezing, the crying. She made it obvious. So I learned to comfort myself." He lifted his head, a little frown on his face. "But I don't think I like being alone. I think I just expect it."

"Well, you shouldn't. That's what family is for. This family." He kissed me, a kiss so much more tender and gentle than usual. "I don't like letting people take care of me either. It doesn't come easy. But these fuckers have always been looking after me anyway. Manson has…" He trailed off, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "I'm an asshole."

"No way," I said, widening my eyes sarcastically. He chuckled, and swatted my thigh as if to spank me.

"Shut up and rest, sweetheart," he said, using his weight to pin me to the bed. "And don't go telling the boys I'm soft."

"I wouldn't describe you as soft."

He held me tighter, growling, "Goddamn it, Jess, I'm gonna fuck you senseless the second this damn headache goes away."

"Guys, not right on top of me, come on!" Jason groaned sleepily, eyes still closed. "Actually, wait…wait, maybe I'm into that."

"Go back to sleep, ya little pervert." Lucas smacked the back of his head, right as Vincent and Manson returned from the kitchen.

Manson clicked his tongue in disapproval, handing me a bottle of ibuprofen. "Hey, be gentle."

"Fine." Lucas didn't lift his head, until Manson cupped his chin and lifted it for him. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, before Lucas leaned into his hand and reiterated, "Yes, sir."

"That's better." Manson leaned down, kissing Lucas first, then me.

Jason complained sleepily, "Where's my kisses?" Manson had to lay on top of Lucas to reach him, but Jason got his kiss and Lucas got a hard-on.

"Y'all are torturing me now," he groaned. But the torture wasn't over yet — Vincent and Manson had returned with beverages.

Or, at least, they had returned with s omething in five plastic cups.

"What is that?" I said, hesitating to accept the orange-tinted liquid as Vincent offered it.

"It's disgusting," Lucas said. He got off me and sat up, staring at the cup with his lip curled.

Vincent shook his head. "It's just a little turmeric and apple cider vinegar, plus a pinch of chili powder. Some honey to sweeten…"

He shoved the cups into our hands. He kept one for himself, and Manson was slowly sipping his. Jason sat up, took a deep breath, and started chugging, while Lucas and I stared at our glasses in horror.

"I ain't doin' it," Lucas said. Jason finished his cup and burped triumphantly, and Lucas glared at him in distress. "How the hell did you get it down?"

Jason shrugged. "I've had it before. Mrs. Volkov would make it for me. If I went over to their house with even a sniffle, she was practically force-feeding it through a funnel. Just open your throat and swallow fast." He gave Lucas a teasing grin. "You're already good at that, right?"

Lucas took a tentative sip, ignoring Jason's advice. For a moment, he looked like he was going to vomit. He swallowed with a shudder and shook his head. "Hell no."

Seizing the opportunity to set aside my own disgusting "medicine," I crawled across the mattress to kneel next to Lucas.

"What if I helped you?" I said, and he instantly looked even more suspicious, his eyes darting between me and Manson.

"Don't look at me," Manson said. "I don't think I can save you."

With a sweet smile, I straddled Lucas's lap. As I settled on top of him, his cock twitched and my grin grew wider.

"Let me," I said, taking the cup from his hand. He grimaced, but the expression melted away when I kissed him. His breathing quickened as I pressed close, his arms wrapping around me.

Parting from his mouth, I whispered, "Now, be a good boy."

Bringing the cup to his lips, I tipped it up. He winced as the medicine hit his tongue, but he swallowed, lifting his eyes to mine as he did. I held his gaze, gently cupping the back of his head as he kept drinking.

"That's it, you're almost there," I said. Lucas was beginning to squirm, and his steady swallowing stopped as he groaned in disgust. I offered him a little mercy, lowering the cup for just a few moments until offering it again. "Just get it over with, babe."

Lucas finished it off, gulping down the last of it with a snarl and a shake of his head, as if to cast away the taste. "You're diabolical, Vincent. That was vile."

"Hey, I'm not the one who force-fed you while grinding on your cock," Vincent said, sipping his drink as easily as if it were lemonade.

Jason, who had watched with his mouth agape, declared, "I should've put up a fuss, apparently…"

"Don't get any ideas," Manson said. He took a few slow steps toward the bed, eyes focused upon me with predatory intent. "Besides, our little angel isn't being a tease out of the goodness of her heart. She's procrastinating."

He held out my cup with a smirk, and I pouted at him miserably as I took it. "Did you really have to call me out?"

"It's for your own good," Vincent said.

"It's gross ," I whined. I could really get a good whine going when I was sick; the scratchy throat and swollen sinuses made me sound pitiful.

"If I had to do it, so do you," Lucas said, surprising me when he murmured in my ear. He wrapped his arms around my waist, dragging me between his legs, so my back was against his chest.

"Um, hey, wait a minute —" I stuttered, as Manson crawled onto the bed and sat before me. Vincent assumed a similar position on my other side, and even sleepy Jason sat up.

"You all just want to see me suffer," I said.

"I want you to get better as soon as possible," Vincent said, in such a patient, gentle voice that my stomach quivered. He affectionately brushed my hair out of my face, tsking as he laid the back of his hand against my forehead. "After all, I can't tie you up and hang you from the ceiling until you're better. I can't lock a spreader bar on those lovely legs of yours and use a vibrator on you if you're sick."

Even feverish, his words turned me red. Lucas's cock throbbed against my back, and I felt the slightest pang of sympathy for him until he wrapped his hand around my wrist and eased the cup toward my mouth.

"Go on," Manson said, giving me a look that practically begged me to fight him. "Be a good girl."

"Get it over with so we can cuddle some more," Jason said.

Closing my eyes so I wouldn't have to see the nasty stuff approaching my mouth, I pinched my nose and began to drink. Spicy — God, it was so spicy and vinegar-y. But I got it down, and groaned in disgust as I finished.

Lucas kissed my neck, igniting goosebumps up my spine and swiftly making me forget the gross taste.

"There's my good girl," Vincent said, leaning down to give my forehead a kiss. "I would have hated to spank you."

"Don't lie, you would have loved it," I said, and Manson laughed.

"I know I would have," he said, giving me a mocking swat on the backside as we snuggled together.

Manson took me under his arm and Lucas rested his head on my chest again. Vincent pulled Jason onto his lap, the blue-haired man already almost asleep.

Lucas chose a movie for us, surprising me when he selected Rear Window . But not even the great suspense of Hitchcock could keep me awake for long. Held close among the men I loved, I drifted off to sleep.