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 Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 11:21 am
End of August 2016
The summer heat was almost unbearable some nights, almost to the point where Michael didn’t even want to go out to hunt for youma, if only because of how many layers his knight uniform had. Aside from the helmet and armor and cape, there was also at least two layers of fabric and chainmail in between. And then there was the fur and glowy bits and belts. Sure, it kept him from getting too injured most of the time, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a pain.
Regardless, being a knight was who he was, just as Caspian being Remus was part of who he was. Thankfully, it was a pretty quiet night. There was a summer storm on the horizon, but that wasn’t unexpected. It was also good that they weren’t out in the middle of nowhere this time, but had powered down in a park close to Caspian’s house, but still far enough away so as not to draw attention to the location.
“Hopefully the rain will cool everything down,” Michael surmised as he leaned up against one of the poles holding up the swingset as he waited for Caspian to catch his breath. He’d been a little more winded than usual during their patrol, but that might just be because he’d been out in the heat earlier that day.
“You should really drink more water,” he frowned in concern, wishing that he’d been smart enough to actually bring some water with him. “How much have you had today?” At least he could get a better idea of just how dehydrated Caspian probably was. —————— It was almost unbearably hot.
Sweltering was another good word for it, or maybe overwhelming; a thick, unpleasant, sticky heat that seemed to seep into the cracks and crevices of buildings, burrow beneath the skin and settle there so that everything felt damp and stuffy.
The long-sleeved, caped, and gloved uniform of Super Sailor Remus did not help whatsover.
By the time they powered down, Caspian was practically gasping for breath, his limbs feeling heavy as he stood alongside Michael, one hand braced against the swingset that took up residence in the park they were currently inhabiting. He lifted a hand and swiped at his brow with the end of one long sleeve, for the first time sincerely regretting his clothing decisions.
“Cooling down is nice,” Caspian grumbled. “It’s hot as ******** out here.”
His voice came out more tired than usual, a little strained. Caspian knew his face was flushed, but it was just so hot outside that he was thinking he was in serious danger of simply melting into the ground right then and there. The scent of rain was thick in the air, and he wanted the ominous, thunderous gray clouds above their heads to open up already, wanting the coolness of the raindrops.
“Uh,” he said, in answer to Michael’s question. Caspian straightened, keeping one hand on the pole of the swingset, and wiped at his brow again. “I dunno. I had some before we left, does that count?”—————— “Not really,” Michael scowled, although it was more in concern than anger or frustration. He was worried for Caspian’s health, especially in the heat like this. Part of him wanted to reach out to him and offer a hand or maybe even to carry him back, but he held himself back. It would probably make things worse, since he was relatively hot, too.
“You don’t sound so good,” he commented after a long moment of watching Caspian try to catch his breath. They’d had plenty of time to rest, so unless he was really dehydrated or something else was wrong.
Unable to stop himself, Michael reached out to lightly take hold of one of Caspian’s elbows, as if to offer whatever support he could. He was hot to the touch, but that probably had to do with wearing layers and the heat and his senshi outfit.
“Come on, let’s get you back to your place. You said your sister is out again?” he wondered, less curious about the elusive sister and more concerned for the fact that Caspian was clearly struggling in the heat. “You should probably take a cold shower when we get back, if only to help cool you down,” he suggested.
Gently, Michael tried leading the way by using Caspian’s elbow to usher him in the right direction. —————— He cast a sideways glance at Michael, lips quirking up a little, since he knew only too well what Michael’s scowls meant. Caspian swiped his hand through his hair again and gave a little shake of his head; a mistake, considering how dizzy it momentarily made him, his fingers clutching the metal swingset a little more tightly than was strictly necessary.
“It’s hot,” he said, straightening a little as he opened his eyes again, exhaling. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”
It was a fruitless sentiment; Caspian knew Michael would probably worry anyway, but he was going to at least attempt to keep some of that worry at bay. He felt gentle fingers against his elbow, and looked up to find Michael beside him, eyeing him with caution and concern in those blue eyes of his that Caspian had come to like so much.
“She’s at a friend’s, I think,” he said with a sigh, giving in and letting Michael guide them back to his house. For some reason, each step felt leaden, Caspian’s legs feeling too heavy for his body. His head felt similar, a drop of rain splashing coolly on his cheek and making his eyes flutter with the relief of the temperature, however brief.
“Down this street,” said Caspian, struggling a little to keep putting one foot in front of the other, though he was more than determined to act well in front of Michael. “See, there it is, we were closer than I thought.”
Another drop of rain, and then another. There was a flash of lightning across the sky, cutting jaggedly through the gray, and was followed by a clap of thunder that split through the air, Caspian letting out a small breath. He had always loved thunderstorms; the rain, the sounds, the smell…
It was starting to rain more and more with each second, an ominous sweeping noise indicating that if they didn’t hurry, they were going to be soaked. Caspian picked up the pace, his breathing uneven, and they reached the stoop of the little townhouse faster than he thought they would.
The leaden feeling was growing more and more. Caspian’s mind felt as sluggish as his body as he fumbled out keys, having to try twice before he managed to get the right one in the lock.
“I’m telling you,” he said, as he pushed the door open. “I’m fine.”
And he would have been, maybe - if Caspian’s legs didn’t give out from beneath him right after this pronouncement, Caspian half collapsing to the ground.—————— Half collapsing indeed, because Michael, who had been eyeing him warily the entire walk home, seemed to have been waiting for that pivotal moment and reached out to grab Caspian under his arms to keep him from crumpling completely.
“s**t, Cas…” he breathed in concern, although he wished he could feel more surprised about the turn of events. They were both pretty drenched by this point, and now Caspian was collapsing for no reason other than the heat.
But was it just the heat?
Michael wasted no time in lifting Caspian not just back to his feet, but up into his arms as well. He wasn’t going to take any more risks, especially after watching as Caspian’s energy slowly deteriorated on their way back to his house. Michael could feel the heat of Caspian’s skin through his shirt, and he had to wonder if it was really just the heat from outside that was causing this behavior.
He carried Caspian over the threshold and was careful to shut the door and locked it behind him once he’d removed the keys. He wasn’t sure here Caspian’s keys usually went, so he placed them quickly on the table near the door before his grip on Caspian slipped.
“You’re fine, huh?” he scowled, now in frustration, but still mostly concern. “You’re so full of s**t. You and Peter both,” he grumbled, mostly to himself as he made sure everything was in order, and trying to use his toe to step on the heel of his shoes to leave them at the front door. —————— He was vaguely aware of Michael catching him, Caspian’s head spinning wildly as he tried - mostly in vain - to get himself together again. This was made extremely difficult by the fact that his legs didn’t seem to want to work and his arms felt heavier than they should have been, Caspian dragging in a sharp breath that hurt his lungs.
“I…am fine,” he grumbled, the words taking longer to get out than he wanted them to. Whatever else he was going to say was lost, because Michael had taken it upon himself to sweep Caspian up into his arms as though he weighed nothing. Which, although Caspian likely weighed about half of what Michael did, felt like an enormous feat considering how heavy all of Caspian’s limbs felt at present.
He found, oddly, that he did not have the energy to wrap his arms around Michael’s neck, though Caspian very much wanted to. There was a click as the door was shut, another click as it was locked, and then a jangle as the keys were tossed onto the table, Caspian wincing at the noise, pressing his face more securely into Michael’s chest.
“I’m just...a little tired,” he mumbled, fingers curling loosely where he could reach of Michael’s shirt.
“If it wasn’t so damned hot outside…”
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 11:24 am
Caspian wasn't heavy, it was just difficult to carry dead weight. Depending on the type of controlled lift, Michael could confidently handle twice his own weight, and he doubted Caspian weighed much over a hundred pounds. Just another reason why he said Caspian needed to eat more.
"Don't play this game, Cas," Michael warned as Caspian continued to insist that he was fine. "You should have told me you weren't feeling well and we could have come back sooner." His heart pounded anxiously with the thought of what might have happened had he not been with Caspian. Would he have just collapsed in the middle of the city?
He could hear the concern in his own voice, and he tried not to let his level of worry show, but that was a little difficult when Caspian practically collapsed in front of him. Michael looked around, a little at a loss of what to do first. He knew he needed to get fluids into Caspian, especially if he was dehydrated, but he also needed to get him cooled down.
"I don't think poorly of you for not feeling well," he made sure to clarify, as he finally decided to make the somewhat dangerous climb up the stairs with Caspian in his arms. "You're not weak or pathetic. I already promised I wouldn't take you to the hospital unless it's absolutely necessary, so please tell me before it becomes absolutely necessary, Cas," he practically pleaded, tilting his head down once he got to the landing at the top of the stairs so he could press a kiss against the top of Caspian's head of damp hair.—————— The stairs were perhaps a little precarious, but Caspian was too out of it to consider this more than a vague concern that Michael wouldn’t be able to get up them while carrying him.
“Don’t fall,” he said, which was probably not very helpful, but he really did not want Michael to hurt himself in the name of helping Caspian. He shifted slightly and tried to make himself as small as possible, which wasn’t very easy, and then gave up after a few seconds.
“I was feeling well,” Caspian murmured, because this was perfectly true - at least to a point. “I thought the...heat was just getting to me, that’s all.”
This was also true, and Caspian still did think it was the heat, though he wasn’t really sure if over exposure to heat would cause everything to feel leaden and dizzying all at the same time. Caspian nuzzled closer to Michael, pressing his face into his shirt and ignoring the scratchy wetness of his rain soaked shirt, his eyes closed, fingers still holding loosely onto Michael.
He felt the brush of lips in his hair and his eyes fluttered, a warmth that had nothing to do with the way he was feeling gently shift up his cheeks. Caspian let out a sigh.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll tell you if I feel shitty.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Caspian said, in a quiet, slightly ashamed voice,
“I feel shitty.”—————— Michael drew in a deep breath, as though he was trying to calm himself from being too frustrated and upset over the face that Caspian, as stubborn as he was, refused to admit when he wasn't feeling well. At least until Michael fussed at him. It was better than nothing, he reminded himself as he placed one more kiss on the top of Caspian's head, and made his way towards the bathroom.
He didn't bother asking how Caspian felt shitty, deciding that just the fact he admitted not feeling well was good enough. Michael would figure out the rest on his own, but first thing was first, and that was getting Caspian cooled down in the fastest way possible.
"You feel really warm..." he mumbled, although it was mostly to himself as he carefully pushed his way inside the bathroom, making sure he didn't hit Caspian against the doorframe. The Finding Nemo shower curtains were nudged to the side, and Michael stepped into the tub with Caspian still in his arms. He knelt down just enough to be able to hold Caspian across his lap, and quickly worked the knobs to turn on the shower before Caspian could protest.
The water was adjusted to be lukewarm, so it could cool Caspian off without shocking his system as cold water would.
Outside, thunder rumbled overhead, and rain could be heard even over the sound of the shower running. Michael was mildly concerned about being in water during a thunderstorm, but he was a Jupiter knight and got immunity to share, right?
"How does that feel? A little better?" he asked as he blinked the water out of his eyes, knowing very well that they were both completely clothed still, and now even more soaking wet. He shifted enough to be able to sit down completely, resting his back against the edge of the tub while he kept Caspian in his arms.—————— He had thought that they were going to his room, and was somewhat startled, approximately thirty seconds later, to find Michael climbing into the bathtub. It took a bit of maneuvering, Caspian clinging to him with wide eyes; but then they were settled, and the spray of lukewarm water hit them a second later. Caspian curled up sideways in Michael’s lap, shifting so that he could slide his arms around Michael’s waist, his face pressing into his shoulder as he staunchly ignored the wet fabric against his cheeks.
“A little,” he mumbled, voice slightly muffled. Caspian nuzzled himself tiredly as close as possible, fingers linking together around Michael. “It’s better than the heat, I thought I was gonna melt.”
His face was still flushed, but at least he didn’t feel as unbelievably hot as he had before, even if he still felt overly warm. The townhouse had air conditioning, for which Caspian was eternally grateful, and now, at least for a little while, it had Michael too, which made him even more grateful.
He wanted, somewhere in his hazy mind, to kiss Michael, now they were alone and not out on the streets - something he had refrained from doing while they went on patrols. But Caspian couldn’t quite work up the energy to lift his head, and instead just let himself relax against Michael, feeling weary and dizzy.
“...you’re getting all wet,” he pointed out, a few minutes later.—————— Michael shifted down in the tub so he could try and make it as comfortable as possible for Caspian. It didn't help that the tub was a bit too small for him, but he was at least able to move his legs over enough so Caspian could practically lie against him. It freed up the use of his hands, which he used to gently wipe the water and strands of hair from Caspian's face, and rubbed at his back in a comforting motion.
It did concern him that Caspian's forehead felt much hotter than he first realized. Once the water had enough time to cool them both, Michael was beginning to realize that the heat and slight tremor from Caspian, probably one that he didn't even notice himself, had nothing to do with the heat outside.
"Yeah, well," he mumbled casually, shrugging just a little although it really was uncomfortable sitting in wet clothes. "I figured this would be more comfortable in case you fell asleep," he explained, still running his hand through Caspian's hair, and tentatively pressing his palm against Caspian's forehead.
"I think you've got a fever... do you feel chilled at all?" he asked, knowing Caspian was probably too distracted by the heat to recognize the symptoms. Even if he didn't feel chilled, Caspian's skin was too hot, even with the cooled water falling over them.—————— He suspected that Michael wasn’t as comfortable as Caspian; and to say “comfortable,” even, for him, was stretching it a little. He liked being curled up against Michael, that was for sure; but the wet clothes were itchy and clammy against his feverish skin, and he was starting to shiver, his hands trembling where they were clasped around Michael’s back.
He took it back. Comfortable was far from what he was.
Michael’s hand was incredibly soothing as he smoothed Caspian’s wet hair back from his face, and his eyes fluttered, Caspian trying to stay focused. After having pushed himself so much during the day, insisting he was fine, it seemed everything was catching up to him now, all at once, which was incredibly unpleasant. Caspian couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this bad.
“Dunno,” he mumbled, and turned his face a little, pressing it into the crook of Michael’s neck and exhaling a long breath that shook in his chest. “I don’t feel good.”
He didn’t like this; this weak, heavy feeling that bogged him down, now that he wasn’t trying to force himself to do anything except talk. Caspian started to push himself away from Michael, too aware that he was soaked through the to the bone, his fingers trembling.
“You’re gonna make yourself sick if you keep sitting in the water,” he said, grasping the edge of the tub in an effort to pry himself out of it - which at the moment, seemed ludicrously impossible, for some reason, wet fingers sliding along porcelain without managing to hold onto a grip. Caspian made an annoyed sound in the back of his ********>
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 11:27 am
It was painful seeing Caspian like this. Pale and feverish and clearly not feeling very well at all. Michael's heart ached, wishing there was something he could do to take the pain away, or at least take it upon himself. Caspian's stubbornness would be the death of him if he wasn't careful.
"I'm fine," Michael insisted, much more honest than Caspian had been. He sat up a bit as Caspian began to pull away, holding out his arms to catch him if it looked as though Caspian would slip and fall. A concussion was the last thing he needed to deal with.
"Be careful," he frowned, pushing himself up now as well, and reaching to turn off the water. "You feel like s**t because you keep pushing yourself. What if I hadn't been there, Cas? What if you collapsed and I couldn't get to you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice soft, but there was an edge of worry in it that he couldn't hide.
"Let me get a towel," he mumbled, pushing himself up and slid the curtain open so he could ease himself onto the edge of the tub. He had to lean back a little to get the towel off the rack, but soon turned back to Caspian to continue frowning at him. At least Michael was confident that he was able to get Caspian cooled down a bit. He didn't seem as though he was about to pass out right away, at least.
"s**t, sorry, I forgot about your shoes," he winced lightly in sympathy. In his defense he was a little distracted with Caspian almost collapsing. He didn't ask for permission, as Caspian struggled to push himself up in the tub, to reach down and tug at his shirt, pulling it up and over Caspian's head. The towel was immediately dropped into him once the shirt was off, and Michael leaned down from where he sat on the edge to wrap the towel around Caspian to start drying him off.—————— Even feverish, Caspian could hear the worried note in Michael’s voice, edged with a tinge of frustration. Caspian stopped trying to climb out of the tub and laid an arm across the edge of it, resting his forehead on it and exhaling a long breath.
Truth be told, he didn’t want to upset Michael. He didn’t want to hear that concern and know that he had been the one to cause it in the first place. Caspian knew his stubbornness was a problem, had known it from their first meeting, both powered and otherwise. And he knew as well, the deep seated, lingering fear that Michael had of something happening to Caspian and being able to do nothing about it.
Caspian closed his eyes briefly and then opened them again, trying, without having down, to kick off his shoes and socks. Michael had moved to sit on the edge of the tub beside him, and as Caspian lifted his head, Michael’s hands came down on his shirt. Without any sort of preamble, he found it yanked unceremoniously off, Caspian letting out a small, hoarse yelp of mingled surprise and indignation that wasn’t really much at all.
But there was a warm, fluffy towel wrapped around his shoulders, and Caspian looked up at Michael through damp hair, feeling too hot, clammy, and shivering all over. He reached up a hand and placed it over one of Michael’s, curling shaking fingers around his, needing to say what he had to say before Michael thought otherwise.
“...sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m sorry.”—————— Michael’s hands paused in trying to dry Caspian off when trembling fingers were placed over his. It wasn’t that he was mad at Caspian, just worried and upset. There were so many things that could have gone wrong, but at least he’d been there. This time.
“It’s okay,” he said softly back, although his voice was a little more strained than he intended it to be, his grip squeezing a little tighter to Caspian’s arms, before going back to patting him dry through the towel with his one free hand. He wanted to tell Caspian that he was always going to worry because he cared about him, but then that might prompt Caspian to just… not tell him anything, for fear of worrying him. It was a stupid, vicious cycle they were in, without any end in sight.
“I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he apologized as well, feeling guilty for putting Caspian on the spot like that when he was already feeling like crap. “You need to get out of your wet clothes. Want me to bring you some clothes, or did you want to change in your room?” he asked, removing his hand from the towel to brush back Caspian’s hair, trying to get a good look into his eyes.
His hand moved from Caspian’s hair to gently touch his cheek, and then his forehead again to check his fever. “You don’t have a thermometer, do you?” Michael thought Caspian felt too hot, but wasn’t certain just how bad it was.
“I’ll get rid of my wet clothes as soon as you’re comfortable and in bed,” he promised before Caspian could fuss at him, showing him a small smile in reassurance. He still didn’t have clothes over at Caspian’s place, so he might end up having to settle for wearing a towel, but it was better than nothing. —————— He let Michael towel his hair and torso off, finding it required too much energy to protest anymore. Caspian held onto his fingers for a few more seconds and then let them drop again, shaking his head.
“You didn’t snap,” he mumbled, cheeks reddening. “I was just…”
Caspian let it trail off, and instead let his gaze relax a little as Michael stroked his hair, finding that he liked this particular gesture a great deal. It was both soothing and tender, and he leaned his head a little into it, Caspian’s eyes half-lidded as he gazed at Michael. His expression was not entirely affection; there was guilt there as well, and a the clear signs of unwell; but he could at least convey, in part, how much he appreciated Michael and everything he did.
“If you want to bring me clothes, they’re in the closet,” he said. “Just...anything’s fine. Uh.”
A pause, and he glanced away, his face reddening, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to look Michael in the eye as he said, in an attempt at sounding casual, “Underclothes are in the top drawer of the dresser.”
Maybe it was a good thing he was feeling terrible. He couldn’t work up enough energy to be as embarrassed about this as he would have been, though it still made him somewhat flustered.
“There’s a thermometer in the...cabinet above the sink, I think,” said Caspian, rubbing his forehead absently, as though trying to alleviate some of the feverish thickness inside of his head. “I can’t remember.”
He was starting to feel exhausted again, Caspian rubbing at his eyes now. “Um. My clothes won’t fit you, but…”
He did not want Michael going home, which was selfish for a number of reasons, but Caspian was feeling particularly vulnerable at present. He glanced up at Michael, worrying at his lip and said, “I think there’s a bathrobe that might work, or...or one of my larger shirts or something…”
He trailed off again. Thinking was a little hard.—————— Michael kept his hand against Caspian’s hair and face for a little while longer, before slowly pulling back. “I’ll figure something out,” he shrugged, highly doubting that there would be many choices for clothing there, but that was not really his concern at the moment. He was more worried about making sure Caspian got to bed.
He stood up outside of the tub and looked up to where the cabinet was. Going over to it, he pulled it open to rummage through. The thermometer was behind a few items, but when he found it he picked it up to look at, and then passed it to Caspian.
“Put this in your mouth and don’t take it out until I get back,” he said, although he made sure to lean down and press a quick kiss to Caspian’s forehead and adjusted the towel around him. He left the bathroom to head towards Caspian’s room, gently pushing the door open so he could step inside. It was just as he remembered it. As if it was that long ago that he’d been there. There seemed to be more or less the same clutter, but that surprisingly didn’t bother him as much as he thought it should have.
Opening the closet, Michael pulled out a long sleeved, soft shirt for Caspian to sleep in. He would need to stay warm, despite the heat. Comfortable sweatpants were pulled out as well, and lastly he went to the top dresser drawer to grab some underwear. He couldn’t quite understand where the embarrassment came from, whether it was just modesty or something else, but he wasn’t going to make a big deal about it. Part of him wondered if, in high school, Caspian hated getting changed in the locker rooms. Michael didn’t have that experience, but he could imagine. Or maybe he was just over thinking it.
Instead of immediately returning to the bathroom, he quickly, but quietly, padded down the hall and down the stairs to retrieve a clean glass of water, before making his way back, clothing held out in front of him so he wouldn’t get them wet from being against his shirt.
“I thought I saw some ibuprofen in here,” he mumbled to himself, setting the glass down on the bathroom counter so he could open the cabinet again and pull out the bottle he saw earlier. Once he was sure of the contents, he dumped a couple into his hand, and held them and the glass of water out for Caspian in exchange for the thermometer.
“Alright, let’s see what it says, your majesty…” —————— Caspian did not like thermometers, but he grudgingly took it anyway, looking somewhat apprehensively at it. Michael’s brief kiss to his forehead did ease some of his worry, and with a small sigh, Caspian stuck it in his mouth, remembering, at the last second, that it was supposed to go beneath his tongue.
He felt childish again, sitting in the doctor’s room after getting a cold. Caspian leaned against the side of the tub with his arms draped over it, unwilling to move any farther than was strictly necessary. This proved an uncomfortable thing, considering how feverish and clammy he felt, the wet sweatpants clinging in all the wrong places. He reached down, and with some effort, finally managed to pull off both his shoes and his socks, which Caspian dropped unceremoniously over the tub and onto the floor.
He rested his forehead against the cold porcelain of the tub and did not look up again until Michael returned, Caspian’s slightly dazed eyes flickering over the water and pills in his hand. There was a beeping noise as the thermometer reached the correct temperature, and Caspian pulled it from his mouth, looking vaguely grossed out as he passed it to Michael.
The number on the little object read 100.8. Caspian took the two Ibuprofen and downed them, with some sluggishness, grateful for the cold water that soothed his throat.
“It says I’m doing just dandy,” Caspian grumbled, because they both knew this was far from true.
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 11:29 am
Michael just stared, exasperated at Caspian as he continued to be difficult. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing it on purpose or if that was just Caspian being, well… Caspian. Either way, Michael eyed him warily and took the thermometer to look at, and then cleaned it in the sink before putting it back where it belonged.
“You’re lucky it’s not any worse,” he shook his head as he crouched down next to Caspian, reaching out to gently touch his face again with one hand, feeling just how hot he was. Now that he was out of the shower and getting dried off, Caspian definitely still felt like he was sweating, likely from the fever. It made Michael feel guilty because they didn’t have to go out on patrol. Caspian could have stayed home to rest.
“Can you stand? I can help you get dressed,” he offered tentatively, wondering if Caspian would refuse. He held out his clothes, anyway, and offered a hand to him. He wanted Caspian to let him help, but that stubbornness… it was almost too much sometimes, but Michael was determined to wait it out, just as Caspian waited out the things wrong with Michael.
“You can just use me to balance if you want,” he suggested. He knew Caspian was self conscious but… he was also sick and needed help, whether he accepted that or not. “Let me help you… please, Cas…” he said softly, using part of the towel to dry some more of Caspian’s hair. —————— He was, he was finding out, a little weak to these tender, affectionate touches of Michael’s. For such a large, well-muscled, powerful man, Michael’s touches were always gentle. Even when they had been tangled together on Michael’s bed - a memory Caspian kept replaying in his mind when he was alone - Michael had always been conscious of his strength, careful not to crush or hurt Caspian.
It seemed odd that such a strong man could be so gentle, and yet it fit Michael perfectly.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” said Caspian now, with a little sigh. “I’m just....feeling terrible, and I don’t like it.”
He glanced at Michael’s offered hand, his cheeks slowly growing redder, though half of this was due to the fever. Caspian felt his heart beating too fast in his chest, and not all of it was because of the anxiety of being entirely unclothed in front of Michael, which he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for. He was already self-conscious as at the moment, clad only in these stupid, rain-soaked sweatpants, and even though the feeling of Michael’s hand on his chest that night had made him feel incredibly wanted, it was not something easy to get over after just one instance.
But there wasn’t a whole lot of choice here. And Michael wanted to help him, was giving him that look that always seemed to melt Caspian’s heart.
He reached out his hand and levied himself, slowly, to his feet, Caspian wincing a little.
“Sorry,” he said softly again. “I’m just...not used to this. You.”
A pause and then, even softer,
“But that doesn’t mean I want you to go anywhere.”
He meant it as a blanket meaning, not just this one instance. Caspian bit his lip and turned around slowly, unsteady on his feet. One arm reached to grip Michael’s arm while he used his other hand to carefully, painstakingly, shed the last of his clothes, trying extremely, extremely hard not to think too hard about what he was doing, and hoping the towel was covering at least some of his modesty and anxiety.—————— Michael shook his head and let a small breath out through his nose. While he didn’t fault Caspian for feeling embarrassed or anxious or self conscious, he also wished that there was a way he could convince him that he had nothing to be ashamed about. It wasn’t going to be an easy process, he knew, but Michael was okay with that.
“Don’t apologize,” he said as he helped Caspian to his feet, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to try and reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he added with a small, sympathetic smile, and held out his arm for Caspian to hold onto as he worked on getting the rest of his wet clothes off. Michael tried to give Caspian as much space as possible, keeping his eyes focused elsewhere while he got out of his clothes, and then when Michael balanced the whole pile of his new clothes on his hand, so Caspian hopefully wouldn’t feel so anxious about what he was doing.
He could feel the heat permeating through Caspian’s skin, even if it was just his arm and hand that touched his own. Getting him to sleep as soon as possible would be best for him.
“Take your time,” Michael said softly, hoping Caspian realized that he wasn’t looking for the sake of his modesty. He didn’t want him to rush and collapse again. “Would it be okay if I stay with you tonight?” he asked, his voice still quiet, although the concern was there. He wanted to make sure Caspian was feeling better, and if his sister was out of the house, then it wasn’t as though Caspian had to hide him. —————— He was, even feverish, too aware of Michael behind. Caspian would have rushed through getting dressed again, had he not been vaguely concerned that rushing would mean toppling over onto his face in the process. He held tightly to Michael’s arm and painstakingly tugged on the clean clothes, mercifully dry and cool from hanging up his closet. It took some wrangling to do it one handed, especially with Caspian trying extremely hard not to think of Michael, and then, finally, thankfully, he was dressed.
He turned slowly around to face Michael, grateful more than he could say that Michael had looked elsewhere. Caspian wanted to hug him, but since he was now dry and Michael was still mostly wet, it seemed he’d have to wait.
He reached out instead and tentatively threaded his fingers through Michael’s, Caspian looking up at him. The height difference was more pronounced than ever, but he swayed a little unsteadily and gave Michael’s hand a little squeeze.
“As if I’d let you go now,” he said softly, and since he couldn’t reach Michael’s face, he lifted his hand to his mouth and kissed his fingertips, nuzzling his heated face against the cool skin of his palm.—————— It wasn’t until Caspian turned around that Michael looked down at him again, offering him a small smile to hopefully counter how horrible he felt, at least a little. It was probably even better that Caspian was dressed in clean, dry clothes. Now was just a matter of figuring out what he was going to wear…
Michael found it pretty amazing how quickly he could go from being frustrated or concerned about Caspian to smiling, all in Caspian’s presence. He was already convinced that it was Caspian’s doing, of course. How, he wasn’t sure. Aside from Caspian, it was pretty rare that he smiled so quickly and easily. The fact that it was Caspian who caused this phenomena was not lost on him.
He opened his hand when Caspian drew it to his face, palm against his cheek. His fingers were still locked with Caspian’s but that didn’t stop him from gently brushing at his hair and face with what little movement he had to spare.
“Alright, you need to get to bed,” he insisted, allowing Caspian to keep his hand to his face. “Would you be okay if I borrowed my old sweatshirt…? If you still have it. I think that might be the only thing that’ll fit,” he said with a small laugh. He vaguely wondered if there was a hairdryer or iron he could maybe use to quickly dry his clothes, but that seemed more complicated than necessary, and Caspian had enough to worry about.
Like getting better.
“Come on,” he prompted, taking the towel Caspian had been using, and lifted it to place over his own head to rub at his still damp hair. “I could just wrap a blanket around my waist. Or a sheet… or… towel, whatever you have that might work,” he shrugged. “I could run out to the store, or back home, too… It wouldn’t take long and I’ll come back,” he suggested, thinking Caspian wouldn’t really like the last idea. —————— He thought, maybe, through the haze of his fever, that he would be okay with Michael smiling at him like that more often. Every day, even, or every day for as long as he could possibly have Michael with him. It seemed selfish in a way, or perhaps ridiculous that he could think of wanting something - or someone - that much, for that long - and it did give Caspian a sense of anxiety even considering it.
But the more time he spent around Michael, the more he wanted to spend time with Michael.
Caspian turned his head a little and kissed Michael’s palm, ignoring the little voice inside of his head that said he was too sick for this and shouldn’t keep indulging himself. Another kiss was pressed to the inside of Michael’s wrist, Caspian lingering there, inhaling the scent of rain that seemed to not quite cover everything that was inherently Michael. Beneath the smell of the storm, he could sense the cedarwood that was always so persistently Michael.
With a small sigh, he lifted his face again, Caspian’s eyes flickering towards Michael’s face. His own cheeks started reddening further, and he had to look quickly away again, biting his lip.
“I...still have it,” he mumbled. “It’s in my room.”
He was not going to tell Michael under any circumstances that sometimes he just buried his face in the borrowed sweatshirt and let it bring him comfort and reassurance. Caspian swayed a little unsteadily on his feet, his other hand reaching for Michael’s shirt and curling fingers in the damp fabric.
He did not like the idea of Michael leaving, but he couldn’t ask for him to sacrifice his own comfort just for Caspian. It felt selfish and borderline obnoxious. “There are towels and blankets in the closet,” he said, pulling his hand from Michael’s to rub at his face again, looking tired and unhappy with his own lack of strength, both mental and physical. “There’s a store down the road, though, if you wanted something more than that.”
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 11:32 am
Michael's expression remained soft as Caspian turned his head to kiss his palm. He could feel the heat radiating from the fever against his hand, which made him feel guilty again, but he couldn't help but look at Caspian with fondness, despite the earlier frustration. It wasn't as though Caspian got sick on purpose.
And then when Caspian shifted to press a lingering kiss against the inside of his wrist, Michael's small smile shifted and faded, heat rising in his face for reasons that had nothing to do with the temperature. His new expression was still just as soft, but the amusement was gone, replaced with something else he couldn't quite understand, and was sure he wouldn't be able to recognize on himself if he turned to look in the mirror.
The urge to lean down and kiss Caspian was strong, but Michael stubbornly held himself back. Caspian was sick and needed rest.
"As long as you're okay with it. I'll be okay not getting anything,” he said, his voice a little more hoarse than he thought it would be, and he quickly cleared his throat that had become thick with that unrecognizable emotion.
There has to be something wrong with him. All he wanted to do was kiss Caspian and hold him close and he knew Caspian was sick and needed rest, but...
Michael looked down at his feet and shuffled them awkwardly, almost uncharacteristically, which happened to bother him even more because he didn't like feeling awkward and unsure of himself. He blamed Caspian for this strange shift.
"Need me to walk you to your room, or do you think you'll be okay? I'll... be there in a minute, just... I think I've dripped water around your house enough tonight," he said, glancing curiously up at Caspian, hoping he wouldn't be too uncomfortable with having Michael in his bed wearing nothing bit a towel or blanket. —————— He liked seeing the flush to Michael’s cheeks; something that Caspian could appreciate even in his hazy state. He wanted to reach up and run his fingers along the warmed skin, press his lips to every part of Michael’s face that he could reach, feel those strong arms around him again -
It was a bad idea. He was sick, and he did not want to get Michael sick as well. And Michael was still dressed in his rain soaked clothing, which was bad too.
Caspian stretched up on his tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to Michael’s collarbone - all he could reach at the moment - before dropping back down.
“I’ll be okay,” he murmured. He seemed reluctant to let go of Michael, however, and stood there in front of him, swaying slightly while a palpable and oddly overwhelming desire for him swept across Caspian, momentarily dizzying him. His eyes rose to meet Michael’s, his expression a little pained from feeling terrible, but also a mixture of affection and more, Caspian using every ounce of energy he had to keep from leaning forward and burying himself against Michael’s chest.
With that same energy, he pulled himself away, dragging in a shaking breath.
“I’ll be in my room,” he mumbled, cheeks flushed. Caspian edged out of the bathroom and painstakingly made his way into his room, which thankfully was only kitty corner to the bathroom. A few steps more, and he was mercifully, beautifully, in front of his bed. Caspian tugged back the sheets and sank into the bed, exhaling a long breath, pressing his heated face into the pillow.—————— Michael watched as Caspian made his way out of the bathroom and towards what Michael could only assume was his room. He let out a sigh and shook his head, lifting a hand to touch his collarbone where Caspian had kissed him, silently craving more but knowing how much of a bad idea what would be especially while Caspian was sick.
In retrospect, even though his jeans has been soaked from the rain, he probably should have pulled them off before getting into the shower, because now they were nearly impossible to peel off. He managed it somehow, and set them over the shower curtain rod to hopefully dry a little for the morning. His shirt and underwear came off to be hung up as well, and a towel made its way around his waist after drying off as best he could.
For a few long moments, Michael just frowned at himself in the mirror in disappointment. There wasn't technically anything physically wrong with him, unless someone counted the tattoos and scars that were mostly covered with clothing in public, but he could never quite look at himself and feel any sense of accomplishment or pride. Arguments could be made that he was very accomplished, but he didn't feel that way.
With a shake of his head, Michael took a step back and turned to leave the bathroom, making sure the towel around his waist covered everything necessary. It was probably inappropriate to be in such a state of undress when Caspian was sick and needed rest. Michael wondered if it would make Caspian too anxious to get the amount of rest he needed. And while he saw nothing wrong with their gap in age, he knew that it would be looked at by others as something possibly questionable. Not that anyone knew he was spending the night with him, but still.
As quietly as possible, Michael left the bathroom to find the closet in question so he could switch his towel out for a larger blanket, although he kept it wrapped around his waist. He made his way into Caspian's bedroom then, glad to see that he had made his way sort of under the covers, although his face shoved into the pillow made him shake his head.
"You'll suffocate," he pointed out, and then looked around for the sweatshirt of his that Caspian had, finding it on the back of the computer chair. He exchanged it for the slightly damp towel, although he didn't bother pulling it on just yet. It was still a bit hot despite the air conditioner.
"You sure you're okay about this?" he asked softly, gesturing to himself and the blanket that at least covered all his legs now with its length. "If it makes you uncomfortable, I can sleep on the floor." —————— “Will not,” came Caspian’s muffled voice without lifting his head. “I’m too stubborn to stop breathing now, right?”
He exhaled another breath, then rolled over, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “Okay with what?” he said. “You staying over? That’s fi…”
Caspian trailed off, his eyes having found Michael standing beside his bed at last. For a few seconds, he seemed utterly at a loss for words, his mouth opening and then shutting again, a steady red flush beginning to find its way across his already scarlet cheeks. Frozen on the bed, his eyes traveled from Michael’s face, down his bare torso, to the towel that was slung low on his lean hips, and Caspian’s mouth felt dry.
He suddenly felt a myriad of conflicting emotions that included a terrible resentment that he was sick; a wriggling of the quietest jealousy that he was not, and probably would never, look the way that Michael did; and a powerful sense of utter disbelief and amazement that the man standing in front of him wanted him, of all people. That Michael Gallo, former Navy and Knight of Jupiter, with his strength and his appearance and his good heart and his kind soul, was willing to be with a scrawny kid like Caspian.
It seemed impossible, even ludicrous, and yet -
“You,” Caspian said hoarsely, his voice cracking slightly. He closed his eyes, the fever making his head spin. “Are almost unfairly attractive.”
He reached for a pillow, Caspian pulling it over his face so it was covered, the effort of doing this almost making him fall asleep right then and there.
“How did I ever get lucky enough to meet you?” he whispered into the pillow, voice barely audible.—————— Caspian’s reaction made Michael stare at him in exasperation, shaking his head once more in disbelief. “Just because you’re too stubborn to stop breathing, doesn’t mean you should actually try to suffocate yourself,” Michael frowned as he turned around so he could ease himself on the edge of the bed. He reached out to gently try and pry the pillow from over Caspian’s face and set it to the side, his back of his hand replacing the pillow so he could check the temperature of Caspian’s forehead.
“It’s the fever talking,” he suggested in response to both being almost unfairly attractive, which Michael thought was a little ridiculous, and also the comment about being lucky. “If anything, I was lucky to meet you,” he said softly, turning his hand over to brush back some of Caspian’s hair off his forehead and face. “I couldn’t have wrapped my arm on my own, you know. You saved it from being a lot worse than it was.”
Even still, Michael thought he understood a little about where Caspian was coming from, and he couldn’t help but smile affectionately down at him, even as he was sick and scarlet red, and probably feeling like crap.
“I think you’re attractive too, you know. But thank you,” he added sincerely, the compliment from Caspian seeming much more personal than if it had come from anyone else. “You should be trying to sleep,” Michael softly reminded him, reaching down to pull at the covers so he could make sure Caspian was tucked in and warm. He did his best to try and fluff up the pillow that Caspian’s head was resting on, and then stood back up from the bed.
“Hang on, I’ll be right back,” he promised, leaving the room for just a few moments and returning with a wet washcloth he’d retrieved from the bathroom and folded it up so he could place it over Caspian’s forehead. “There, that should help. Go to sleep,” he insisted, leaning over him to press an affectionate kiss to Caspian’s heated cheek.
A pillow that Caspian didn’t seem to have any intention of using was picked up and dropped onto the ground, and Michael moved to sit and then lie down on the ground. The sweatshirt was at least pulled on then, so he was wearing something, but thought Caspian would be too distracted to sleep if he didn’t sleep on the floor. —————— Caspian did not have the energy to resist the removing of his pillow, his arms falling on either side of his head, Caspian staring up at Michael with half-lidded, slightly dazed eyes. He bit his lip as Michael’s gentle hand smoothed over his forehead and face, the sweet smile and the tender touch working in tandem with his softened voice. Caspian wished dearly he had the strength to do more than just lay where he was.
“That’s not what I meant,” he mumbled. “I meant...I’m lucky that…”
That you want to kiss me. That you let me kiss you, too.
That I get to have you in my life at all.
But thinking too much was hard. Caspian closed his eyes as Michael fussed with his bedding, almost panicking when Michael stood and disappeared, his throat catching the breath that stuck in it. But Michael was back a second later, and Caspian felt the wonderful coolness of a washcloth across his forehead, something that made his eyes flutter, the affectionate kiss to his cheek making him wish, yet again, he was well enough to do something.
Especially since Michael was apparently sleeping on the floor. Caspian wished he wouldn’t, but he kind of knew why he wasn’t. Maybe.
He rolled onto his stomach, nuzzling into his bed, and then tentatively reached a hand out to Michael over the side of the bed, unable to really see him well, Caspian’s eyes falling shut. He just wanted - needed - to know that he was there, in the dark, with him.
“You won’t go anywhere...right?” he murmured sleepily. “You’ll be here with me?”—————— It could have been a lot worse. Caspian could have been sicker than he was. He could have passed out alone without Michael there to help him. They could have been stranded somewhere, like the boxcar.
Overall, they were pretty lucky, and while all his clothes was wet and he refused to sleep in wet clothes, it wasn’t as though he had nothing to cover himself. He had the blanket wrapped around his lower half, and with the hoodie, he wasn’t worried about getting cold, although that was better than being too hot.
He reached back to adjust the hood to pull over his head, as that was more comfortable than the fabric bunched up at his neck, and glanced up when he heard the sleepily mumbled questions from Caspian. He lifted his arm, resting his elbow against the floor, but was able to gently take hold of Caspian’s wrist and gave it a small squeeze of comfort.
“I’ll be here with you,” he replied softly. Michael couldn’t imagine going anywhere else at that moment, his heart swelling with that same emotion from before that he couldn’t quite recognize. He was still concerned over Caspian’s fever, but at least Caspian wouldn’t be alone in case it got worse, or in case he needed anything.
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