Justin had just started pouring the soup into a bowl when a shrill voice from the living room raked over his nerves for the dozenth time that night.

“Christ, where did you go to get that soup? Fucking New York?” Brian complained, his voice harsh and nasally between loud, hacking coughs.

Justin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the headache growing behind his eyes, but ignored the questions as he continued to ladle veggies and noodles into the bowl. He could do this. Just another thirty minutes and he’ll finally have peace and quiet. And then he could lay down and nap himself since he’d been awake most of the night listening to Brian’s not-cold.

“How long does it take to heat some fucking soup? Christ; at this rate, I’ll have likely starved to death before you get it in here,” Brian groused, his breath reedy as he tried to fight off another bout of coughing, because God fucking forbid the man actually admit to being sick.

Justin closed his eyes and prayed for patience as he banged his head against the cupboard door to the beat of his newest mantra. “I will not kill my husband; I will not kill my husband; I will not kill my husband. It is illegal and I look horrible in orange, and I would be missing out on years of glorious sex. I will not kill my husband.”

“Justin!” Brian yelled again, but never finished as he began to cough again.

“Maiming on the other hand…I’m sure I could get away with that,” Justin muttered as he reached into the cupboard and pulled out the Nyquil and dumped a liberal dose into Brian’s peppermint tea. He’d just tell Brian it was from that Chinese herbalist that he went to when Brian had cancer; he won’t know the difference.

“I’ll be right there,” Justin called, rolling his eyes as he picked up on the crabbing in the other room, although he couldn’t actually hear what exactly was being said. Which was probably just as well since it would lead to mariticide, and he was trying to avoid that. “I’m just finishing up that special tea I got you from the herbalist and then I’ll be right in, honey.”

Adding a substantial dollop honey to the tea to hopefully curb some of the bitterness, Justin placed the mug on the tray. Looking it over, he took a deep breath, picked up the tray and plastered a smile on his face as he headed to the living room. He could do this. Really.

“It’s about time,” Brian grumbled as Justin entered the room, and then sneezed three times in a row before then huddling back into the mound of blankets that had overtaken the chaise lounge sitting by the fireplace.

Justin barely kept from rolling his eyes at Brian’s dramatics and internally repeated his mantra one more time, albeit with a bit more force than the previous time. He walked over to Brian and set the tray on the coffee table before heading over to the corner to grab one of their TV trays.

“Well, it would have been here sooner if someone hadn’t spent nearly fifteen minutes trying to decide what kind of soup he wanted,” Justin reminded his cantankerous husband. Which was likely a mistake, but his patience only stretched so far.

Hence the Nyquil-doctored tea.

“Well, nothing sounded good,” Brian said a bit peevishly, grabbing yet another tissue and blowing his nose loudly. “Nothing ever does when I’m under the weather.”

Justin did roll his eyes this time; honestly, what was so hard about admitting you’re fucking sick? Grabbing the tray, he walked over to Brian and set it up without a word, knowing full well that he was on the verge of telling his husband to fucking get over it. And then he’d have to deal with a full-fledged Kinney meltdown and potential mariticide would be the least of his worries.

“Well, hopefully this will make you feel better.” And put you to sleep so I can catch a fucking break, he thought.

Justin set the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of Brian, (the first fucking soup he wanted before changing his mind five times and then going right back to the original chicken noodle), and then added a handful of saltines to the side. He then reached over and grabbed the doctored tea and added it to the TV tray, along with a napkin and utensils.

Grabbing the other tray, he quickly walked into the kitchen before Brian could comment. Pulling bread down from the cupboard, he buttered two slices and then grabbed some sharp cheddar out of the fridge and slapped them together before setting it into a pan he had heating on the stove. While the one side was toasting, he then grabbed another bowl and filled it with soup.

Flipping the sandwich, Justin let it toast for a couple of minutes before sliding it out onto a plate and then, after turning off the stove, piled everything on the tray and went back into the living room to eat dinner with his surprisingly silent husband. Not that he thought it’d last.

A feeling that was proven correct the moment he stepped over the threshold.

“This tastes weird,” Brian complained, grimacing as he took a sip of his tea.

“Yeah, well, I told you it came from that herbalist I visited when you were having problems due to the radiation,” Justin said as he sat down in a chair across from Brian. “He said it just the thing you need for a…” Justin trailed off as Brian glared at him, likely knowing he was going to utter the taboo word. Lord, give him strength. He continued on instead. “... a pick me up.”

Brian grunted and took another, much larger drink this time, he face screwed up in a disgusted moue. Justin was just glad that he was drinking it. Soon; oh God, soon.

“Besides, if I had as much shit as you do clogging my nose and lungs,” Justin said with a huff. “I’d think stuff tasted off as well. Just drink it. The last thing I need to do tonight is to drag your ass to the hospital because you’re dehydrated. And I know how much you’ll just love that. So, finish it all; it will make you feel better.”

And I can get some fucking sleep.

Brian drained the cup and then set it aside, a coy look in his eyes. Or, at least that’s what Justin thought it was; it was difficult to tell considering how red and watery they were. But he figured he’d humor his husband because he really wasn’t in the mood for the resulting queen out.

“You know,” Brian said, his voice low and raspy; it was too bad that it was because of a cold and not due to something a lot more fun. Justin could really use a stress reliever right about now. “There is something that you could do for me that would really make me feel good.”

“Oh yeah?” Justin said, slightly amused that even sick, Brian was hitting him up for sex. It fucking figured. “And just what might that be, Mr. Kinney?”

“I was reading this article online today,” Brian said, taking another bite of his soup.

Wow, you were bored today, Justin couldn’t help thinking. Not that he’d actually say that aloud. He had learned his lesson a long time ago not to go there.

“Did you know that having a lot of sex can lead to a healthier, longer life,” he continued, pressing his hand against his mouth as if staving off a yawn.

Ah, well that made a whole lot more sense. He could quite easily believe that Brian would read that if it were about sex; even if it did sound like something Cosmo would write. Looking up at his husband, Justin nearly cheered to see Brian’s eyes drooping a bit, but didn’t because that would make Brian suspicious. And he already felt guilty for drugging his husband.

Well, mostly...somewhat? Okay, not at all, but considering the griping he’d dealt with for the past two days of this this not-cold, Brian was lucky he hadn’t smothered him with a pillow.

“It said that due to the releasing of endorphins at orgasm, that it relieves pain, soothing joint pain and headaches, and that they are natural mood boosters and reduce stress, leading to better self-esteem and a deeper intimacy between partners.”

“Like you need an ego boost,” Justin snorted, snickering unrepentantly when Brian glared at him. But seriously, if Brian developed any more self-esteem there wouldn’t be room for Justin in their bed as it’d be taken up by Brian and his ego. “I’m assuming you have a point to this?”

“Yes,” Brian said, sounding a bit sulky. God, give him the strength not to murder the husband he usually adores. “Although, I think the answer should be obvious.”

“Seriously?” Justin asked, a skeptical look on his face. Of course, he knew what his husband was angling for; he wasn’t stupid. But unlike Brian, he knew that he was going to fall asleep before anything interesting happened. “Brian, I don’t think…”

Justin trailed off, contemplating his words, because like hell was he going to tell his husband that he didn’t think he had the energy for one of their very athletic fucks. That would just come across as a challenge to Brian and then Justin would be left hard and aching when the asshole fell asleep on him. Which he would given the Nyquil.

“I was just thinking that a blow job would be the perfect pick me up,” Brian said coyly, licking his lips as he ran half-mast eyes over Justin’s body, ending to stare pointedly at Justin’s crotch. (And was it bad that he was half wishing that it was due to the meds and not the other reason?) Brian’s voice was drenched in sex as he purred.  “It’s been almost a full day since we’ve had any fun; aren’t you missing it, Sunshine?”

Justin barely held back a snort and mentally cursed when his traitorous dick gave an interested twitch; because sick or not, his husband was still sexy as hell; and yes, it had actually been nearly two days, but who was keeping track? And for someone who was used to being molested at least once a day, if not more, yes, he was missing it. Damn it!

Biting his lower lip, Justin squirmed in his seat, trying to shove those far too enticing images from his mind; especially when Brian flashed him a knowing grin. Damn his overactive libido; one that had been honed and encouraged by his husband’s own highly active sex drive.

“Just admit that you do, Sunshine,” Brian teased, his infamous tongue-in-cheek smirk pasted on his face. Justin rolled his lips between his teeth in an effort not to say anything to encourage his already incorrigible husband. “There is no shame in it.”

Justin squirmed in his seat as Brian pushed himself out of the lounge and then lay down on the rug in front of the roaring fireplace, in the same exact position as he had when they first made love by it. Licking his lips, he watched as Brian pillowed his head on one hand while the other slowly trailed over his body to squeeze his already hard cock.

Fighting back a moan at the sight, Justin pulled his legs tight into his body and wrapped his arms around them, determined to ignore the highly charged scene before him. He could do this. Really. And he needed to resist because there was no way Brian was going remain awake long enough for anything to happen.

“You know you want to, Sunshine,”Brian rasped, palming his cock as he stared at Justin in complete need. “Remember the first time we fucked here after you returned from New York? How we made love in front of this fireplace until you were covered in come and could barely sit, let alone stand and it still didn’t quench the hunger? So, I turned around and slid up until your dick was in my face and mine in yours and we sucked each other until we could barely hold on, our dicks leaking with pre-come and sliding down each other’s throats until your lips were bruised. And then I flipped you around and impaled you on my cock, so hot and tight, once more and pounded you into the floor until you screamed?”

Justin did groan then, remembering all too well that day, and night, when he told Brian that he was sick of living in New York and he was coming home whether he liked it or not. No career was worth being away from him and the whole bohemian, starving-artist thing was vastly overrated. He had no idea what he’d been thinking when he left; he just remembered being overwhelmed by everyone telling how this was the right move for him and then he was there, alone and cold, without Brian and thinking that his friends were a bunch of assholes.

“Or, how about the night we put on our rings and vowed to each other that no matter what anyone said, that no matter how much our so-called friends tried to separate us for our own good, that we would always remember how much better we were together than apart,” Brian continued, his eyes closed as he slid his hand into his sweats and ran it over his cock.

“How we made slow love to each other, touching, sucking, licking until you all but melted into the rug beneath me. Then I opened myself up for you and slid down onto your hard, aching dick. I rode you, bringing us up until we’d nearly come and then taking back down, over and over for nearly an hour until finally, completely frustrated, you flipped us over and fucked me into the ground. God, you were so hot that night.”

Biting back a whimper, Justin cupped and squeezed his rapidly filling dick, his breathing shallow as Brian began to stroke his cock. Fuck, this was pure torture and Justin was starting to regret drugging his husband. It had been far too long since they’d had sex and, frankly, his hand, while working in a pinch, has always been less than satisfying.

“Mmmm...or how about our wedding night…” Brian murmured, his voice slightly slurred around the edges. “You looked so beautiful that night...I love when you’re dressed to the nines...it had been hours since we last fucked...and all...of our friends...were being utter...dickheads...and wouldn’t...let...us...leave. Couldn’t even wait...until...we...got in the room. Had to...fuck you...right...then...and there...against...the door.”

Justin clenched his hands into loose fists and waited for his husband to continue, and was just about to say fuck it and join him, when a familiar wheeze filled the air, followed by an even louder snore. Groaning in frustration, he cast a baleful glare at the now sleeping man, hand still on his cock, and muttered his mantra.

“I will not kill my husband; I will not kill my husband; I will not kill my husband. It is illegal and I look horrible in orange, and I would be missing out on years of glorious sex. I will not kill my husband.”

Running a hand through his hair, Justin exhaled explosively and glared at his far too tight pants, thinking this just figured. He finally had peace and quiet just when he really didn’t want it. All that glorious sleep he’d been fantasizing about when he’d come up with his grand plan was not going to happening now. At least not until he took care of his not so little problem.

But that too was easily remedied.

Justin unbuttoned his pants and was just about to pull the zip down to free his dick, when a sigh and a voice he never wanted to hear under these circumstances filled the room.

"You know, Justin,” his mother said in a wry tone, chuckling when Justin froze and looked over his shoulder in horror. “When you asked me to come over, I wasn’t expecting to walk into this. I thought when you grew up and moved out the house, it would be the end of my walking in on you in these awkward situations, but you and Brian live to prove me wrong.”

“Oh my God,” Justin groaned, his cheeks on fire as he stared at his mother in mortification.

Jennifer, for her part, just looked amused as she leaned against the kitchen door jamb, her arms crossed over her chest. Fuck, he had completely forgotten that he’d asked if she could run by Deb’s and pick up the soup that she’d made for Brian and bring it out since Justin hadn’t been able to get away from his whininess today.  

“Educational as it was,” she continued, obviously enjoying her son’s embarrassment. “I really didn't need to hear that much detail about your sex lives." 

“Mom…” Justin whined, dropping his face into his hands; Oh, God, he was never going to hear the end of this. Especially if his mother told Debbie, which she would because they were thick as thieves and lived to embarrass their children. “Could you please just not…”

“Oh, Justin, you act like you two are the only ones who have ever had sex,” Jennifer snickered, coming into the room and walking towards Justin. “I’ll have you know, back in the day…”

“Oh my God,” Justin cried, desperately trying to block the words out. He really didn’t need to know this about his parents.

"Although, not so long ago either; Brian does have a point, dear," Jen needled further as she ran a hand over Justin’s hair, her tone almost wistful.  "I remember distinctly, that there was this one time with Tucker; we had just gotten back from skiing in Vermont..."

"Mom!" Justin cried, shoving her hand away as he tipped his head back and stared at her in renewed horror. If he hadn’t wanted to hear these things about his parents, he definitely didn’t want to know about his mother and her much younger boyfriend’s sex life. "Oh God, I'm going to have nightmares for life."

"Now, you know how I feel." Jen said dryly as she walked to the door, finally through giving Justin a bad time. “The soup is on the counter. I’ll just leave so you can take care of that.”

As if there was anything to take care of after that. Justin glared at his mother’s retreating back, and then turned his head, and glared at his blissfully snoring husband.

“You are so going to owe me for this.”