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 Posted: Thu Mar 22, 2012 11:49 am
Chris waited outside of the school in his car, leaning against the open window on the driver's side as he waited for his boyfriend to finish with his test. He knew it had been a long day for Paris already, having gone into the test seven hours ago and was sicker than he'd probably ever been. It worried him that none of the medicine Paris was taking seemed to be helping.
Nothing he could look up online would explain why the flu, or whatever he had, wasn't dying down by now. Peter was sick as well, but the little brat was rather resilient, and their mother was taking care of him, so he wasn't as worried. But sometimes he played with the idea of having Paris stay at his parent's house until he started getting better, if only to have someone take care of him...
He glanced up from playing around on his phone as people started exiting the building, trying to get a glimpse of Paris in the crowd. It wasn't too long before he recognized his own purple and silver hoodie that Paris had taken a liking to. Chris reached across the passenger seat to be able to push the door open from the inside.
"Hey, how did it go?" he asked, looking Paris over as he got in the car, waiting until he was settled before leaning back over to give him a quick kiss hello. "How are you feeling?" He looked kind of pale... but that wasn't new, especially with him being so sick.
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Posted: Thu Mar 22, 2012 12:23 pm
Paris dragged his feet on his way out of the building and pulled Chris’s overlarge hoodie a bit more tightly around himself to ward off a chill—either from his illness or the weather, he couldn’t really tell anymore. He was tired and achy and he swore he’d never felt like so much s**t in his life, except for maybe when he’d been five and came down with the Chicken Pox around Christmas, but he couldn’t remember that appropriately and therefore didn’t see it as a very adequate comparison.
He saw Chris’s car as soon as he’d gotten outside and he quickened his steps to make his way toward it, uncommonly thankful for Chris’s ability to drive and his ownership of a car. Normally he wouldn’t have minded using public transit, but after the day he’d had he didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of wading through throngs of people, so he was going to enjoy the comforts of being chauffeured around in leather seats and a heated interior.
He plopped down onto the passenger seat after the door was opened for him, pulling it closed himself and dropping his bag that had carried bottles of water and protein bars and a thermos of soup that morning—but which was now mostly empty—onto the floor at his feet. He accepted the kiss hello with a relieved sigh and leaned over to be able to temporarily rest his head along Chris’s shoulder.
“I feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears,” Paris said. He was surprised that he even had the energy to whine anymore. “I don’t think I’ve ever used it so much over such a long period of time in my entire life. If I don’t pass this thing with a decent score, I’m going to be pissed.”
With another sigh Paris lifted his head and made himself comfortable in his seat, pulling his seatbelt on before Chris could tell him to. “How was class?”
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Posted: Thu Mar 22, 2012 9:25 pm
He smiled sympathetically as Paris rested his head on his shoulder, and Chris gave him an affectionate kiss on the top of his head in response. "Sitting upright might help keep it in," he teased, even though he was more concerned than his comment let on. "You can lay down in the back if you want," he suggested, amending his joking, knowing that Paris had gone through a lot that day.
"I'm sure you'll do fine, though. You've been studying for weeks," he reminded him, although he was sure Paris didn't really want to hear about the test at all by this point. It had been difficult for him, he was sure, having to do the test while sick and with so much more to worry about than a normal teenager. Chris had already decided to help him out however he could, even with it all over.
"Class was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary going on. Had some critiques on a project I'm working on in one class and a test next week for another," he told him, making sure Paris had his seatbelt on before pulling out of the line of cars waiting to pick up students and heading out of the parking lot.
"Are you hungry? We can grab something to eat on the way home. I... uh, don't really have anything prepared for tonight," he admitted rather sheepishly, even though almost everyone knew how much he really sucked at cooking. If anything, Paris was probably glad he wouldn't have the chance to reject Chris's attempt at... whatever he tried making.
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Posted: Thu Mar 22, 2012 10:04 pm
He thought it was sweet when Chris tried to throw together some sad attempt at a meal. Really, he did. His stomach, however, was being finicky in his illness and he probably wouldn’t have been able to tolerate anything more from Chris beyond soup. Paris was at least partially satisfied that his boyfriend could handle that much, even if Chris’s idea of soup came from a can and was heated in the microwave—a far cry from the homemade version Paris would have cooked had their positions been reversed, which he’d once treated Ladon to.
“Not really very hungry, no,” he said, bringing his legs up onto the seat so that he could curl up sideways and watch Chris as he drove. “I ate all my soup during my lunch break and then managed a couple of protein bars here and there, but I don’t really have an appetite for much else. We can stop at the store and grab some more soup if you’re out and I’ll try to force it down with some crackers once we get home.”
He hardly even thought twice about calling Chris’s apartment “home.” It was as much his home as his real home was these days.
And he’d been spending far too much time cooped up inside it since getting sick. For someone who was used to being out and about all the time, the sudden change to being constantly indoors was causing him to experience a bit of cabin fever.
Paris groaned to himself lightly, wishing he were better and wondering—as he did frequently—how much longer this was going to last. “Part of me wants to go straight to sleep, and then another part of me wants to stay out a little longer. I feel like I’ve been in bed forever. If you’re hungry, you can grab whatever you want from wherever and I’ll just get a drink or something and we can get the soup and go home after,” he suggested.
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Posted: Thu Mar 22, 2012 10:47 pm
"That's because you have been in bed forever," Chris snorted lightly, though it was hardly humorous. He was frustrated that Paris was still sick, frustrated that he couldn't really do anything about it, too. He tired not to bother Paris about things like that, though. Paris needed to focus on resting and getting better, not worry about his boyfriend being frustrated.
"That's fine with me," he agreed when Paris suggested going out to grab something to eat for himself, and getting soup on the way back to the apartment. It also meant that Chris was able to pick just about any place he wanted, although something fast would be better for Paris, especially since Chris was sure he'd want to at least get to a place where he could rest.
Chris reached over to take hold of Paris's hand as he drove, giving it a reassuring squeeze, although frowning as well. "Ugh... Your palms are all sweaty... are you coming down with a fever again?" he asked, pulling into a parking space just outside of a McDonald's. He knew it was hardly Paris's favorite place to eat, but he knew he'd at least have a milkshake or a parfait or something on the more healthy side of things. Chris, on the other hand, was in the mood for a burger or two and a good handful of french fries.
"Is this okay? I can get it to go if you'd rather get home," he said, wondering just how horrible Paris was feeling, or if he was in the mood to sit in a public place for a while. He couldn't possibly still be contagious, right...? Chris had yet to get sick, after all.
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 10:35 am
“I don’t think the fever ever left,” Paris commented.
Sometimes he could get it to lower a decent bit if he took enough medicine or kept a damp washcloth over his forehead for a while, or even sweated it out with a pile of blankets, but it would invariably return—some days worse than others. He had a feeling tomorrow was going to be a bad day, if only because he’d spent the entirety of today pushing himself pretty hard to be able to stay up and alert through his exam.
As they pulled into the parking space at McDonald’s, Paris face scrunched itself up in disgust and he gave his boyfriend a “you can’t be serious” look.
“You can afford to eat at any restaurant in town and you pick McDonald’s?” he wondered.
He would have thought a rich kid like Chris would be suitably snobby and avoid fast food in favor of finer fair, but he’d learned over the months that Chris was as satisfied with a tray of greasy burgers and fries in front of him as much as he’d be if the same were replaced with one of Momma’s Gallo’s multi-course dinners.
Paris rolled his eyes but undid his seatbelt all the same. “This is fine if it’s really what you want. I can stand to be out a little longer. I’m going to go crazy if I have to spend another week inside. Just try not to get anything too gross. I do have to watch you eat this stuff.”
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 11:08 am
Chris rolled his eyes as he shut off and got out of the car, knowing he should have expected a reaction like that from Paris. It wasn't his fault he happened to enjoy a fast food burger or two every now and then. Right now he happened to be craving it, so of course he was going to want to get some.
"I don't mind McDonald's," he explained, although he already knew what Paris's opinion of fast food was. Just because he happened to have a bit of money to spend at leisure didn't mean he couldn't go to less expensive restaurants when he just wanted a quick meal on the go.
"Why don't you go get a booth?" he suggested so Paris wouldn't have to wait in line with him. "What do you want? A vanilla milkshake? Sprite?" he asked as he got in line at the register. Something that would be gentle enough on him, but still give him a bit more energy than what he was running on at the moment. Once he knew what Paris wouldn't mind tolerating for himself, Chris went on to order a few cheeseburgers and a large carton of fries. Hey! It was baseball season! He needed to eat more than he usually did in order to keep up his strength.
That, and he doubted that a normal menu meal would be enough to fill him after a long day. Hell, he was lucky he didn't have practice that afternoon, otherwise he would have had to skip it. A game would have been even more inconvenient.
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 11:29 am
Paris dragged his feet again as he followed Chris inside, and gave the menu behind the counter a quick but disinterested once-over before answering.
“Just a chocolate milkshake,” he said. He paused to consider this decision for a moment. “And can you make sure none of that green stuff from their dumb Shamrock shake ends up in it? Last time there was some at the bottom so the whole shake ended up tasting minty, which wouldn’t normally be so bad, I guess, except I really just want chocolate right now, and it looked disgusting mixed in with the chocolate last time anyway. I’d rather not have to dash to the bathroom to puke.”
I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam I Am.
He left Chris to order and went to find a booth as his boyfriend had suggested, sliding in on one side and crossing his arms over top of it to pillow his head as he rested. Once Chris came over with their tray, Paris pushed himself back up and made a face at Chris’s pile of food. He could smell the pickles or mustard or fake meat—or all of it combined—and it wasn’t pleasant.
“How can you eat that?” he asked, astounded not just by the poor quality of the food but also by the amount Chris had ordered for himself. “You can’t even be sure what that stuff is made of, and I bet they just heat it up in the microwave. And it lasts forever. Food shouldn’t last that long. You’re not going to kiss me again after this until you’ve brushed your teeth and washed out your mouth.”
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 12:06 pm
He bit his lip on the request that there be no green milkshake mixed in, even if he did check to make sure none had been put in by accident. It didn't really help that the flavors all came from the same machine.
"Yes, Your Highness, anything else you'd like?" he teased, trying very hard not to roll his eyes as he unwrapped a cheeseburger once he sat down in the booth. It wasn't the best food in the world, but it was strangely satisfying... at least at the moment of consumption. He wouldn't admit it to Paris, but he often didn't feel too wonderful once he'd had his fill. At least he didn't get anything too bizarre that Paris would be even more disgusted by.
"They don't just heat it up in the microwave," he said, just before taking a bite of the burger in his hand, successfully taking out at least a third of it in one go. "Stop being so high maintance, Paris... They have a one hundred two sanitation score and there's nothing wrong with the food," he added once he'd swallowed and taken a gulp of his drink. "I don't mind fast food, just as I don't mind sitting for hours in a nicer place, but I didn't think you'd last sitting around like that... Besides, you're talking to me about the food, but you're laying down on the table?"
It was true, though. If Paris was going to fuss about one thing, why not fuss about the rest of it?
"Just... relax..." Easier said than done, he was sure.
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 12:51 pm
“I am not high maintenance,” Paris denied. “If I was, I wouldn’t have stepped out of the house in sweatpants and messy hair and no makeup.”
He did spare a look down at the table, though, and brushed off a few crumbs left by whoever had been using it before. It didn’t look too terribly dirty other than that, and he hadn’t been touching it with his bare skin anyway, so he supposed it was okay. He’d just make sure to throw the hoodie he was wearing in the wash when he got home.
He took his milkshake and lifted it up to examine it and make sure it was to his specifications, and when he didn’t see anything green floating around in it he set it down on the table to fish out the cherry and pop it into his mouth before sucking some lingering whipped cream off of his finger.
“It’s just gross,” he insisted, making another face as Chris started to wolf down his meal. “The only thing good about this place is the milkshakes, and they’re just barely passable and borderline shitty except that they make shitting possible. If you ever need to take a s**t, drink a McDonald’s milkshake. They put stuff in them to thicken them that makes you poop.”
Or so he’d heard.
Paris sucked out some more of the whipped cream before mixing the rest in with his straw and taking a few sips of the milkshake itself.
He considered risking a fry in the hopes that it might help settle his stomach, but after eyeing the container for a bit he decided not to chance it, as it was just as likely to upset his stomach as it was to ease its discomfort.
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 1:00 pm
"You," Chris said, holding himself back from sputtering in disbelief, "Are being very... classy and eloquent today." It wasn't as though Chris knew how to communicate perfectly, but who went to a restaurant and started talking about shitting?
He titled his head curiously at Paris, as if trying to see him from some angle that would explain his attitude, before deciding that he was simply sick and uncomfortable and not at all in his element.
"No, you're not as high maintenance as others," he agreed, pausing to take another bite of his burger and grab a handful of fries. "But you sure do like things to be... I don't know... at a specific standard that no one but you knows." It was the best way he could think of describing it, at least. He was glad he reached that standard, although he figured after what Paris was used to in relationships, or lack thereof, he easily reached a higher placed bar.
"Just because you don't like the food here doesn't mean it's horrible. I don't really like spicy food, but I'll eat Indian when I get the chance," was his lame example, because he was sure that Paris realized there weren't really any fast food Indian places around, so he'd have to get his 'spicy food' from a sit down restaurant.
Knowing it was a rather silly for him to compare such things, Chris shoved the rest of his first burger into his mouth, hoping that Paris would be distracted by how 'gross' it was. Not that Paris wasn't being gross, himself...
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 1:47 pm
“I’ll have you know that shitting is a natural bodily function,” Paris said. He didn’t even care to lower his voice as he talked about it. If anyone overheard, they could get over it and keep eating their nasty food. “There is absolutely nothing natural about that thing you’re shoving into your face.”
He suppose Chris did have a point. Paris did like things to be a certain way—at least when it came to things like food, which he happened to think was important. He liked to know what he was putting into his body because his body being in a certain level of shape was rather imperative considering his profession.
“At least I have standards,” he pointed out. Not that Chris didn’t, and Paris would readily admit that when it came to most things he’d only begun to gain some standards relatively recently. As in the last year. Paris thought he was better off now because of it. He certainly had more direction in his life now than he’d had a year ago.
“You keep eating that stuff and you’re going to end up with a gut like my old man once you stop playing ball,” he teasingly warned, smiling around his straw as he sipped at his milkshake. “That stuff’s packed with calories and not much else. It’ll help you get fat before it helps you build muscle. Then I’ll have to call you Dough Boy instead of Pooh Bear, though I guess either would work, really.”
Hesitantly, Paris reached for a fry against his prior judgment and bit off a small piece of it. He made another face almost immediately and tossed the rest of the offending piece of food back onto the tray. “Too salty. Which is just another thing wrong with that junk. It’s all got too much salt in it. Once I’m better we’ll go back to eating decent meals. If you want a burger I’ll make you a real burger. None of this fake crap.”
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 2:16 pm
Okay, really? Sure, Paris didn't like McDonalds' food, but he didn't have to harass Chris about it. He already knew that it wasn't the best food in the world, but jeez... Could he not just enjoy a burger for a change that wasn't completely organic and loaded up on healthy s**t??
"Oh, I don't have standards??" Chris stared at Paris, clearly insulted by the insinuation. "You're acting as if I go into the dumpster and dig out food other people have thrown away! Or eat dog food!"
Chris had plenty of high standards. It's what gave him his spoiled rich boy attitude most of the time. Despite knowing that Paris was teasing, he wasn't very good with just ignoring everything his boyfriend was saying. Talking about him getting fat and losing muscle over a few burgers after a few hours long practice made him just... want to forego eating entirely. Not because he wasn't hungry, but because he couldn't stand the nagging.
"Fine, let's go," he finally said, dropping the burger he'd just picked up back down on the tray. "You're being ridiculous, Paris. It's just a damn burger and fries. I don't give a rat's a** if it's not healthy, but whatever. I'm done. Let's go." They'd just go and pick up some soup from the grocery store (or Chris would leave Paris in the car and get it himself, if only to get away from him while he worked off his temper), and then they could go home, and Paris could have all the waterlogged noodles and soup he wanted.
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 2:41 pm
“E-Excuse me?” Paris gaped, thrown completely off by Chris’s sudden rise in temper.
He didn’t think he’d been doing anything bad. Just making a few comments here and there about the quality of the food. It wasn’t anything Chris shouldn’t have known before, and it certainly wasn’t anything for him to be losing his cool over, especially as Paris didn’t recall saying anything that wasn’t true. He hadn’t noticed Chris getting riled up at all—maybe just a little annoyed—so for his boyfriend to suddenly flip his s**t at him and throw a random and uncalled for tantrum grated on Paris’s nerves.
“I didn’t say you don’t have standards, but for your information digging food out of a dumpster isn’t usually so much a lack of standards as it is the inability to afford anything else. Think before you say stuff, Christopher. Taking cracks at poor people just makes you look like a selfish p***k.”
Which he knew Chris wasn’t—just a little spoiled—but sometimes his boyfriend had the habit of speaking before he thought things all the way through when he was angry. Paris had the habit of doing the same thing sometimes, of course, and he couldn’t always blame anger for it. Sometimes it just wasn’t easy to control the impulse to run his mouth. Pulling this sort of thing in the middle of a restaurant populated with a good number of people wasn’t exactly the sort of thing he wanted to deal with so soon after his test, though. It had already been an exhausting day. He didn’t need this right now.
And besides, it was a dumb thing to fight about to begin with.
“Sit down and finish your food,” he said, taking his eyes away from Chris to glare down at the table while he drank some more of his milkshake. “I won’t say anything else if you’re just going to throw a fit about it. Jesus, Chris, and you think I’m a prima donna. If you don’t like what I’m saying, just ignore me or tell me to shut up. Don’t stomp around like a brat.”
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Posted: Fri Mar 23, 2012 5:48 pm
"Oh shut up, Paris," he said, taking Paris's suggestion of telling him to be quiet. "You know exactly what I meant, and knew I wasn't saying it to put down people who are less fortunate." If anything, that was even more insulting for Paris to think that Chris could care less about those who couldn't afford a decent meal. He wasn't taking cracks at poor people at all! It was only when Paris twisted it around did it sound like that.
"Maybe I am a selfish p***k, huh?" he said with an exaggerated shrug, although in the back of his mind he was trying to get himself to chill out. It was just a few comments and he had no reason to get so worked up about it. But sometimes he just hated the nagging.
"And don't tell me what to do," Chris growled lowly. "I wouldn't be throwing a fit if you'd just back off and let me eat my shitty food. Damn it, Paris.."
This sucked... He knew he shouldn't be taking out his frustrations on Paris. Hell, he didn't even know where his frustrations came from. Maybe it's because of the lack of caffeine he was getting into his system to keep himself awake? Withdrawal could do strange things to a person. Or maybe he was just getting strange hours of sleep since he had so much work to do, and then Paris tossed and turned because he was uncomfortable and sick. Or maybe he really was just frustrated with being told what to do...
"Sorry," he grumbled, slouching back against the booth as he poked at the almost cold fries on the table. "Just... tell me to shut up, too..." It would make things easier...
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