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Hartley had been sneezing for the better part of a day, and was rather grumpy to be sick again. He’d just gotten over a bad cold barely three weeks ago. So now he was irritable and feeling a little bit sorry for himself, but at least it gave him the excuse to sit in bed with a book all afternoon. He was so often busy these days, and rarely got a chance to do much reading.
But of course it couldn’t last: eventually James came home. He was quiet and sympathetic when he asked his boyfriend what was wrong, and quickly disappeared to make soup. Hartley should have known it was all too good to be true.
Soon there was a loud knock on the bedroom door.
“I heard that someone is sick…need a house call?” came a booming, exaggerated voice from the other side. The door opened before Hartley could tell him to go away, and James was dressed in nothing but briefs and an opened lab coat. A blue-and-yellow-striped stethoscope accompanied the outfit for added ridiculousness.
“Doctor Love is here to make you feel better!” James announced, and began gyrating around the room in what was presumably supposed to be a sexy dance.
“For God’s sake, James…” Hartley said with his face pressed against his palm. But he was chuckling quietly. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Medicine is well aware of the effect of mood on recovery, so Doctor Love is here to make sure you’re fine. By the way: you are definitely fine,” James said with a suggestive waggling of eyebrows.
“Oh my God, just stop,” Hartley told him, though was obviously amused. In fact, his laughter continued to increase as James kept dancing. This was the dumbest and most hilarious thing his special trickster had done in weeks.
“Soooooo are you feeling any better?” James inquired as he bounced onto the bed in a belly flop. Hartley was still laughing.
“Yes, thank you, Doctor Love. But I’d better not kiss you, because I’m germy.”
“A kiss on the cheek or forehead is just as good,” James replied cheerfully, and received both.
“Gotta say though, I really did want that soup you were supposedly making,” Hartley admitted, and his boyfriend grinned.
“You’re in luck! I heated up some soup while I was getting changed! Et voila!”
James leaped off the bed and intended to present the waiting soup with a dramatic flourish, but somehow managed to crash into the dresser instead.
“James!! Are you okay?” Hartley exclaimed with concern, and ran to his side. The blond man was rubbing his head ruefully but seemed no worse for wear.
“I meant to do that, you know. All those years of acrobatic training paid off!”
“Pfft…come on, Doctor Love. I’ll get you an ice pack and then we can both rest in bed. Maybe you’ll be more careful next time,” Hartley chided gently. They spent the rest of the evening snuggling under the duvet, and Hartley reflected later that it really had made him feel better.