Ethan winced. He could hear Tim’s barking cough from the bedroom. Tim was Sick. S.I.C.K. Sick. Ethan was ready to drag him out of bed and to a doctor. Tim had pleaded for one more day. At Ethan’s acquiescence, he had then summarily kicked him out of the bedroom, ordering him to keep his distance.
Which Ethan was doing his damndest to do. He had refrained from fussing over Tim, other than dropping fresh water off on the dresser every couple hours, which hardly constituted fussing, and the occasional head poke in the doorway, wherein Tim, if awake, would wave him away.
“Get. You don’t want this.” He’d rasp.
Ethan would bite his tongue to refrain from pointing out that until night before last, when Tim’s harsh cough had started keeping him awake, they’d been sharing a bed since the onset of his cold…or whatever this was, and he was already well exposed.
“HahhRrshoo!! HaahhRrruhhshoo!!”
Ethan winced again. Those sounded painful, and it didn’t sound like they’d be the last. He wasn’t wrong. Four more loud rough sneezes emanated from Tim followed by a pained whimper. He braced himself for the nose blowing that was sure to follow and was surprised when it didn’t.
A minute later, Tim was out next to the couch. “I can’t find more tissues.” He whined, in a voice so marred by congestion that if Ethan hadn’t previously worked allergy clinics, he doubted he’d be able to make out the words.
“Must be the last box.” He indicated the box on the coffee table. He reached over to hand it to Tim who doubled over without warning, bringing his arm up just 5 seconds too late.
“YYuhhshoo, HuhYyyuhshoo.”
Ethan groaned as he felt damp spray coat his hands and forearms
Tim stepped back, looking horrified. “I’m sorry.” He managed. “I’m so sorry.”
Ethan shoved the tissues at him until he took them. “Here.” He walked into the kitchen and began scrubbing his hands and arms for several minutes. He took a deep breath and walked back into the living room.
Tim, again, stammered an apology.
Ethan sighed. “It’s ok. I mean, it happened. I guess, I’ve got this now if I didn’t already.”
“I didn’t mean too. I was trying not to get you sick.”
“Nobody tries to do that.” He shrugged. “At least it’s you and not some stranger this time.”
Tim looked confused, but maybe Ethan was misreading his fever.
“Job hazard.”
Tim nodded, understanding, coughing roughly into his sleeve.
“Anyway,” Ethan grabbed his keys from the bowl by the door. “I’m going to get tissues. And a whole bunch of stuff because I have a feeling this just sunk the nail in the ‘me getting sick’ coffin.”
Aggedy Ann 