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 Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 1:58 pm
Paris was pretty sure being sick was quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened to him at this point in his busy life. Missing patrols was the least of his worries. There were practices and performances he was missing, and he feared going home and spreading the illness to his father—who really couldn’t afford getting sick with all the ailments he already suffered. Since the morning he’d woken with a fever, Paris’s life had pretty much been confined to bed.
He watched a lot of TV.
Of course, there were a few good things that came from it, namely that staying at Chris’s place meant his boyfriend was left to dote on him, and while the extent of Chris’s cooking abilities was tea and canned soup, Paris thought it was quite nice to be the one being doted on for a change.
His head felt heavy, his nose was stopped up, and he ached all over, but despite all that he was rather comfortable in bed, propped up against fluffy pillows in a pair of sweat pants and a long-sleeved shirt, with an extra blanket wrapped around him and a box of tissues beside him, Sassy curled up on his other side and Anna down by his feet.
“You have dirt smudged on your forehead, you know,” he told his boyfriend.
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 3:04 pm
Coming home to a sick Paris the other day was a surprise, but at least he'd trusted Chris to take care of him. Why he trusted Chris to take care of him, he had no idea. He couldn't cook and didn't really know what to do for someone who was sick, other than what his mother did for him when he was younger, and what he did for himself, of course. But things could have definitely been worse.
Currently, he was bringing up some medicine and water from downstairs, giving Paris a slightly exasperated look at his comment. "It's Ash Wednesday... I went to church," he explained, handing his boyfriend the pills and waiting for him to take the water. "Mom called to remind me... I'd almost forgotten..."
Living on his own could do that. While he was fine with keeping up with school and other extracurricular activities, the day when Lent started wasn't really on his priority list... although he supposed it probably should be...
"How are you feeling?" he asked, reaching out to place his free palm against Paris's head to check for a temperature. "Peter's sick, too... And a lot of people are out of class... There must be something going around," he mumbled to himself, not really thinking about it all that much. He just couldn't afford to get sick, so as long as he made sure he took his vitamins, he shouldn't have anything to worry about, right...? Unless it was a virus... but he hadn't started feeling sick yet.
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 4:41 pm
At first, Paris had been a little concerned about getting Chris sick, too, since his boyfriend has just as many things to worry about as he did, but after a couple of days had gone by without Chris showing any of the symptoms, Paris figured they were okay for now.
He took the medicine and the glass of water being offered to him, and swallowed the pills while Chris examined his warm forehead. “I feel sick. How does it look like I feel?” he responded somewhat sarcastically, though he wasn’t snippy enough to seem unappreciative, because he definitely wasn’t unappreciative at all.
Paris set the glass of water on the bedside table once he’d drank half of it, shifting a bit to get more comfortable. “What’s Ash Wednesday again?” he wondered.
Once upon a time, his mother had tried to get him to go to church. She still did sometimes, if she happened to be in town for whatever reason on a Sunday. Paris was pretty sure the church itself wasn’t particularly important to her and she only went because it provided her with some sort of structure or comfort and support. He’d never been particularly concerned with it himself, even if he occasionally went along with the Gallos.
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 5:53 pm
"You look like you feel like s**t," he pointed out, moving his hand away from Paris's forehead once he decided his temperature wasn't too off the charts. He didn't have to rush him to the hospital, at least. That didn't mean he wasn't keeping an eye on him, though. If this was some kind of flu or virus or something... hopefully the hospitals will issue the medicine needed to at least help all those affected.
"Uh... It's the start of Lent... forty days before Easter... not including Sundays," he explained, although he thought it was pretty boring for Paris to listen to. Sure, his boyfriend went to church with him and his family on occasion, but he didn't expect him to know much about what was going on, much less care.
For Chris, it was a long tradition and something that he felt was important in his life, especially with all this knight and senshi and negaverse stuff going on.
"I'm supposed to not eat meat today and every Friday until Easter... And I'm supposed to give something up. Mom tried getting Peter to give up the internet one year... he nearly went into shock after the first couple days," he half joked, reaching behind Paris to try and fluff the pillows for him, pausing to press a kiss against his warm forehead. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
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Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2012 6:10 pm
Chris would be very surprised to learn, then, that while, yes, it was very boring, Paris knew at least a little bit about what was going on. He might not know all the details, or really get why they were important, or care to observe certain things, or even remember some of the things he’d learned in Sunday School as a little kid, but he still knew.
At least, once he was reminded.
Paris smiled faintly, feeling rather tired but also not wanting to sleep. He’d been sleeping enough lately. Even sleep got sort of boring after a while. He appreciated having his pillows fluffed, though, and he leaned comfortably into them, staring at Chris warmly and allowing himself to feel all the fuzzy feelings he’d already told himself he would never inform anyone about (though if they happened to show quite clearly in his starry-eyed glances, he was unaware and couldn’t really help it).
“Hmmmm, I don’t need anything right now,” he decided, and then raised a hand to teasingly pat one of Chris’s cheeks, “but if you’re looking for something to do, you can rub my feet.”
He settled back and waited to see if Chris would actually follow through with his request, considering the ashes smudged on Chris’s forehead as he continued to look over his boyfriend. He thought briefly of Peter, his smile twitching into something a little wider at the humorous little story of Lents past.
“What are you going to give up this year then?”
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Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2012 8:38 pm
Eyebrows raised in slight disbelief when Paris suggested rubbing his feet, and while Chris was pretty sure that he was only teasing about the feet rubbing, he really didn't have anything else to do.
Being careful so as not to crush him, Chris climbed over Paris so he could get on the other side without having to walk all the way around the bed (yes, he was that lazy), and settled down on the mattress. He then reached under the covers for Paris's legs, having him turn so he could pull his legs over his lap so he could, indeed, rub his feet.
"You're so spoiled," he teased, knowing quite well that he was the spoiled one. He rarely had to worry about making food for himself, didn't have to pick up his clothes or do his own laundry, sometimes didn't even have to walk his own dog. It was nice. And it made him feel a little bratty if he thought about it too much. So a little foot rub was nothing.
He paused when Paris inquired about what he'd be giving up, but it didn't take long for him to shrug lightly. "Sex," he said, sounding as though it was an 'eh, why not?' choice. But he was really just joking, and quickly continued. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. Maybe chocolate...? Mom usually gives up chocolate... And then she's miserable, so I don't know why she does it."
Chris shrugged lightly again, trying not to tickle Paris's feet on accident. "I don't know... what do you think I should give up?" Maybe he'd have a better idea.
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Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2012 9:16 pm
Paris would have snorted if doing so wouldn’t result in copious amounts of snot spewing from his nose. Instead, he grinned and chuckled to himself, and wiggled his toes as Chris’s hands worked along his feet.
“Hey, I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work,” he said, teasingly eyeing Chris as one would a naughty child. “Aren’t you supposed to give up something that’s actually, you know, a sacrifice? Like a vice? How does it count if I tell you what to give up?”
Not that Paris was all that concerned about it, and after two seconds of not-so-careful but heartily amused consideration, he decided to offer his two cents anyway. The longer he thought about it, the more he couldn’t resist.
“No, you know what… I know what your vices are anyway. Try two things. Number one, give up coffee,” he suggested—although it was less of a suggestion and more of a “you’re definitely going to do this”—and then his smile widened into an obvious grin that might not have looked so amused if he hadn’t been sick and brain-addled from medication, “and number two… I dare you to give up any and all forms of sex for the entire forty days.”
Chris might have mentioned it as a joke, but Paris definitely saw some entertainment value in it.
Of course, on that topic, there was a part of him that wondered how Chris felt about being both Catholic and in a relationship with another boy, but then another part of him definitely didn’t want to risk opening that can of worms, and since Chris didn’t seem all that bent out of shape about it—nor, for that matter, did Chris’s parents—Paris assumed it was a non-issue. The way Chris acted so lax about Lent certainly didn’t make it seem as if he followed church tradition so strictly, in any case.
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Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2012 9:28 pm
"I would die," was his immediate comment about giving up coffee, making a face similar to one of a child having their favorite toy being taken and thrown away. "Do you know how much caffeine is already in my system? I'm on a schedule... I need ex amount of caffeine and regular intervals throughout the day," he practically whined.
Of course, the second thing wasn't any better. He blinked in surprise, before making yet another dissatisfied face. "Why would you do that to yourself?" he tried pointing out as a reason to back out of the deal. "This would be what you give up too, you know." As if Paris wasn't already fully aware of what he was getting himself into.
Chris frowned at the... non-suggestion, not really sure what to make of it. While he really wasn't a strict to-the-book Catholic, he still did all the Catholicy things. Going to church every Sunday, attending mass for holy days of obligation, the occasional Sacrament of Reconciliation... Usually he found that politics was thrown into church 'teachings' much more than he thought it should be... But that was a discussion for another day.
"I guess I'll see how long I'll last... Is it just coffee or all forms of caffeine?" he asked, wondering if he could get away with tea... or just energy drinks...
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Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2012 10:09 pm
“Even I’m not mean enough to completely deprive you of caffeine,” Paris said. He didn’t particularly like that his boyfriend consumed so much of it on a daily basis, but he couldn’t just cut him off completely. He imagined the resulting deprivation would lead to shock.
“You can still have sodas and caffeinated teas and whatever else, just not anything coffee-related. We’ll start small on that front.”
Paris continued to smile as he considered all the ways in which he could torture his boyfriend over the next forty days by doing something so simple as holding out on him, and though he knew it meant making sacrifices of his own, at the moment he didn’t see anything especially terrible about it. Maybe once he was no longer sick and got back thinking a bit more clearly he would have second thoughts, but for now he saw it only as another source of entertainment.
“You have so little faith in me,” he said, smiling sweetly and wiggling his toes again. “Forty days is no big deal compared to the eight months between meeting you and actually getting down to business. And you went even longer. There wasn’t anyone between me and the last tramp, and how long was that? A couple of years?”
Of course, he liked to think he was ten times better than Chris’s ex, and therefore ten times more difficult to give up.
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Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2012 10:25 pm
"But I like coffee more than soda," Chris pouted, frowning at Paris as he continued rubbing at his feet, moving up his legs a bit as well. "And none of that green tea stuff... Black tea is fine," he said, although it sounded more like a request than a demand. After all, he had been the one to ask Paris for help in deciding what to give up...
"You know, usually it's only supposed to be one thing to give up," he pointed out, although he doubted that Paris would let him wiggle out of it. The challenge was already made, and Paris knew how difficult it was for him to back away from a challenge. "Ugh, this is going to suck!" he finally whined, throwing his head back against the pillows and bashing his head against the wall.
Okay, that had been stupid, but it wasn't his fault that he'd fallen into a tantrum! Paris was the one being ridiculous and unfair about what he should and shouldn't be giving up.
"And hey... don't call her that. I still think of Skye as a friend... She and I talked and... we're going to be friends," he said, although it was a bit more subdued than his previous whining. He lifted a hand to rub at the back of his head after a few moments, grumbling to himself about how he hadn't meant to do that.
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Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2012 10:43 pm
“Notice how I said ‘the last tramp,’ implying that you are also currently dating a tramp,” Paris pointed out, unabashed and completely unconcerned.
He almost forgot not to snort, with the result that he made it halfway through one and had to reach for a tissue when his clogged nose felt a little leaky. He wiped it up and tossed the soiled tissue into the trash can, before removing his feet from Chris’s lap and crawling over to snuggle against his side instead, placing a hand on Chris’s face and playfully pinching his cheek at the same time he shoved his other hand behind Chris’s head to gently massage any developing bump his careless head bashing may have caused.
“Poor wittle Christopher,” he teased, acquiring a sweet sounding baby voice and sticking his bottom lip out as he mocked the expression on his boyfriend’s face. “My poor, poor Pooh Bear. How will you ever survive? Deprived of caffeine and deprived of me. I can’t decide which is worse.”
He moved in to kiss the tip of Chris’s nose, avoiding his mouth in the hopes of not passing too many germs.
“You’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll make it up to you when it’s all over. And I’ll give up something else, too,” he offered, just to be fair. “You get to pick. Anything is free game as long as it doesn’t prevent me from working or dancing.”
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Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2012 11:10 pm
Chris let Paris pull his legs away from him, too busy pouting to fuss about how he could never say that he wouldn't massage his feet for him. Thank God that Paris showered daily.
Of course, he didn't have anything negative to say when Paris reached out his hand to rub at his head, feeling infinitely better already. Or maybe he just liked the comfort of having his head rubbed. What?? Was he a dog or something?? Nah, he wasn't going to waste too much time worrying about it. He'd rather just enjoy the feeling and dotting he got for being dumb.
He could also blame that on being a jock, but Paris was probably well aware of how nerdy he really was.
"Fine," he mumbled after the peck on his nose and getting his fill of head rubbing (he liked it, okay?). "You can't complain about studying, and you can't listen to your music until you've finished for the day," he said after a few long moments to think over just what he wanted Paris to do.
"How does that sound? No coffee or sex for me, and no whining and music for you." He happened to think it was a perfectly lovely idea. Sure, Paris would basically be giving up the same things he was, but whatever.
"Pooh Bear??" he suddenly backtracked, pulling away to stare at Paris and his new nickname. "What the hell, Paris?? Can't you call me something... less Winnie the Pooh?? You know kids called me Christopher Robin when I was little, right?? You're going to give me a complex..." he whined, nearly bashing his head against the wall again, but stopped himself before he could.
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Posted: Wed Feb 29, 2012 10:11 am
Paris winced as Chris chose his sacrifice. Whining about studying was half the fun, and he wasn’t too sure how well he’d manage not being able to listen to music while doing so. He’d probably end up finding even more creative ways to slack off.
He nodded to agree, though, because it was only fair.
“I actually had no idea people used to call you that,” he said, keeping his hand behind Chris head to stop Chris from bashing it against the wall again, because that was dumb and killed a lot of brain cells, and he rather liked having a smart boyfriend. “But that’s really cute. What’s so wrong with Christopher Robin?”
Aside from the fact that he wore dorky shorts and socks and talked to an anthropomorphic stuffed bear and a bunch of other animals, Paris didn’t see what the issue was. That was pretty much the basis of most kid shows anyway, wasn’t it? Things talked that shouldn’t. Christopher Robin didn’t seem different enough to warrant whining and embarrassing or painful childhood memories.
Then again, his boyfriend was sometimes an even bigger whiner than Paris was himself. Sometimes it was cute. Other times it made him want to scratch his head and stare.
“You think I wasn’t called worse things?” he wondered, slipping his free arm around Chris’s neck and leaning back to look into his eyes. “Or had worse things done to me? I’d take being called Christopher Robin over being pushed and shoved and having things thrown at me.”
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Posted: Wed Feb 29, 2012 1:19 pm
"It's not really cute when kids would tease me about talking to stuffed animals," Chris pointed out with a frown, although he didn't seem all too upset by the recollection. It had been annoying and upsetting as a kid, but that was also because he'd been young and things had upset him easier...
Not that he didn't still get upset about stupid things, but in retrospect, being called Christopher Robin wasn't all that horrible.
"They teased me, but I was mediocre enough to not get shoved into lockers in high school, at least." That had been reserved for Daniel, and Chris was sure to be around to try and stop that from happening, despite his puny size at the time. Of course, thoughts of the horrible things Paris could have been called, Chris immediately felt like a jerk for being whiney about a relatively innocent nickname.
"I don't like to imagine it, no... But I don't doubt that you have been," he said, frowning in a way that made him look as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to be sad or angry. If someone called Paris names now, whether or not they were going out, he knew he'd want to kick their asses, but he was also upset with the thought of what Paris must have gone through.
Chris let him hold onto his neck, still sitting upright so he wouldn't fall over, or let Paris fall over. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling rather dumb for being upset over stupid things.
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Posted: Tue Mar 06, 2012 1:04 pm
Paris decided that pointing out that a lot of kids had make-believe friends who were invisible (and therefore talking to stuffed animals wasn’t such a bad thing) was a pointless argument to start having, so he didn’t say anything about it and kept his “my boyfriend is a spoiled whiner” thoughts to himself.
“It’s no big deal,” he said instead.
Okay, actually, it was a big deal, because he knew not everyone was like him and could just let things like that roll right off. He was lucky to have one parent who just didn’t give a s**t enough to make an issue out of what he liked and how he dressed, and another parent who’d been supportive and protective up until the point that she’d left and could no longer be as protective as she used to. He’d had a sense of confidence and “I don’t give a s**t” bred into him since childhood. If he hadn’t, if he’d grown to be a different person, the pushing and shoving and name-calling and having things thrown at him might have had more of an effect on him.
“But if you want to make it up to me,” he continued, figuring he could at least get something out of this situation, “you can fix up a bubble bath for me. I’m cold and I feel kind of gross, and I don’t think I want to waste the energy to stand around in the shower when I can just sit and have you wash my hair for me.”
Paris smiled and moved a hand to pat at one of Chris’s cheeks, because Chris was sort of adorable and Paris sometimes liked to remind him that he thought so, and patting his cheek seemed like a good way of doing that.
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