House Call

LaVieEnRose

Daphne got home around one, while I was still awake in bed kicking some bug catching contest ass in Pokemon, and shimmied out of her clothes and into bed next to me. I spread my palm on the small of her back and kissed her forehead. “Hi.”

She scooted up on the bed to get her hands free. Hi. How was your day?

My students are idiots. How was yours?

My patients are idiots.

We should run away.

She kissed me for a while, and I played with the soft curls at the back of her neck before she covered up her hair for sleep. She stretched, rolling herself on top of me, and said, Did Emily say if Brian was back in today?

Yeah, he wasn't.

And he's not even working from home? She sighed when I shook my head. You have to go over there tomorrow.

I whined. He's going to yell at me.

He's too sick to work, he's probably too sick to yell.

He's probably fine by now and just staying there for Justin.

She shook her head. Then he'd be working from home.

Ugh, she had a point. Okay, I'll check on them after my morning class. Make them some soup or whatever.

She kissed me. I love you. You're perfect. Never leave. She settled down with her head on my chest and fell immediately to sleep in that weird way she does. I sighed and fished the silk cap off the nightstand to cover her hair with and felt her breath against my skin as she snored quietly.

I blinked, and took a deep breath.

Fuck, I said to myself.

**

I hit Brian and Justin's doorbell the next day around noon, over and over and over when they didn't answer. Finally the door swung open and Brian was there, looking like absolute warmed-over shit with stubble on his face and the worst bedhead I've ever seen, wearing Justin's ratty old PIFA t-shirt. He squinted at me, like he wasn't quite sure who I was, then sighed. We were hoping it was someone here to kill us. He took a few steps backwards and signed into the bedroom, No luck, it's just Derek.

Nice to see you too, I said.

What the fuck are you doing here? You don't want to be here. It's a den of contagion. He gestured to the various medical supplies spread out over the coffee table and the dusting of balled-up tissues on the floor.

I had the shot, I said. And I need your help. Also I'm going to take care of you.

What the fuck, you think we didn't have the shot? He has the immune system of a micropreemie, you think we didn't get the shot? He turned back to the bedroom. Why didn't you make smarter friends? he said to Justin.

I set my backpack down and started rooting through it. How are you guys?

I'm fine. He's like dying or something, I don't know. Brian, obviously not fine, sat down heavily on the couch.

Why the fuck aren't you in bed? I asked him.

Well, the doorbell wouldn't stop going off...

I pointed to his laptop sitting on the coffee table. You weren't in bed, you can't fool me. Go cuddle with your husband. I'll bring this shit in.

Brian scoffed. I'm not just going to lie around in bed all day. He pointed to the bedroom. But he is not to get up, so don't listen to any of his shit. He's dizzy as shit and last thing we need is him cracking his fucking head open. Again.

Well, I'm glad you're fine, I said, even though he clearly wasn't. Because I need your advice about something.

Brian spread out his arms, leaning back tiredly on the couch. Consult the oracle.

In a minute. I'm going to make you guys some soup first. I held up a can.

You come all the way here to make us canned soup? You didn't even get deli soup? This is all we've earned after all this time? He squinted at me. And why is it you here, anyway? We have an actual doctor in the family.

Yeah, with actual patients. And Emily's knocked up and busy covering your ass at work, and Molly's over at her boyfriend's and she said she wouldn't do it anyway because Justin never takes care of her when she's sick.

He can't, he...oh my God that girl is a monster. He turned his head and looked into the bedroom, so I figured Justin was making some kind of noise, then reached half-heartedly to the coffee table. Hand me the thermometer? I'm too weak. I'm overcome.

I rolled my eyes and and handed it to him, and Brian hauled himself up and lumbered over to the bedroom. I followed and stayed by the doorway, watching Brian shove the thermometer somewhere near Justin's face and rub a hand up and down his back. I could barely make out which parts of Justin were which; he was curled up into just about the tightest ball he could manage, coughing.

When Brian looked up, I said, Daphne told me to ask if you guys were on Tamiflu? She said it's too late to start it now.

No, he's so allergic that I can't even take it without him reacting. Learned that the fun way! He smoothed his hand over Justin's hair without looking at him.

I bet.

He reached down and took the thermometer out of Justin's mouth, then groaned. Are you kidding me with this shit? he said to Justin, who pulled the pillow over his head. This is an unnecessary fever. Are you trying to die, is that the goal? Get that fucking thing off your face before you suffocate.

Justin moved the pillow and just looked at Brian for a minute, and Brian's face softened and he left for the kitchen. I followed him. Sorry he's not signing much, Brian said. He's having a lot of trouble with his hand. He doesn't have a voice either, so it's not like I'm at an advantage. He opened the fridge and took out a jug of orange juice.

It's okay. How have the seizures been? I knew he always had a hard time when he had a fever. I'd seen him have about a zillion small ones, things I barely even noticed that he'd talk right through, arm or hand twitches or times he just kind of zone out of the conversation, and several kind of medium ones where he had to sit down and wait for it to be over and then he'd be really tired after, but only one major one at that point.

Nothing big yet, Brian said. A lot of small ones. Counting our blessings, I guess.

He poured a glass of juice while I rinsed off the thermometer and held it up to him pointedly. He glared at me, nostrils flaring, then snatched it away and stuck it in his mouth. I hid a smile while I put a pot on the stove.

See? he said after a minute. Hundred and one. Practically normal.

That's a stretch.

Well, it's not exactly the hundred and four he has going on. He looked towards the bedroom again as he put the juice away. He is really wheezing a lot, damn.

Uh...maybe he should go to the hospital?

He can't, he's all delirious, he can't take care of himself at a hospital right now. They'd give him an antiviral and he'd start, I don't know, bleeding from the eyes. He needs me to be there cracking skulls and I'm...maybe not at my best. He got a lid and a straw out of a cabinet.

I can take him.

What the fuck, I'm sick and you're trying to take my fucking boyfriend away from me? he said, all exaggerated horror. That's low, Derek.

Jesus Christ.

I get to take care of him. It's all I have left.

All right, all right.

I'm wasting away. It's my hour of need, Derek.

Oh my God, shut up.

He grinned and brought the cup into the bedroom, where he handed it to me while he carefully sat up Justin. Justin flinched like it was hurting him, and Brian slowed down, helping him lean forwards over his legs. Deep breath, Brian said, and he frowned when Justin started coughing. Where the fuck's the inhaler...

It's right next to you, I said.

He blinked at the nightstand. Oh. I could see the fever in his eyes really for the first time.

Maybe you should sit for a minute, I said.

Quit hovering. He snatched the cup from me and handed Justin the inhaler. I'm fine. Sunshine. Use that, don't just stare at it.

Justin held the cup up to Brian.

Brian shook his head. No, it's yours. Justin didn't budge, and Brian sighed and took a sip from the straw. There, happy?

Justin seemed confused by the question, and Brian bent down and kissed his forehead, leaving his lips there for a second.

Inhaler now, please, Brian said, and Justin did, giving me a tired wave.

What time is it? Justin asked Brian.

It does not matter what time it is, Brian said, with something sort of close to patience. Stop fucking asking me.

Brian's sick, Justin said to me, left-handed, and Brian rolled his eyes and caught Justin's right hand in his.

Yeah, I know, I said. Tell him to sit down.

Justin looked plaintively up at Brian, and Brian, after a beat, nudged Justin over with his hip and sat down beside him.

Just until you fall asleep. He touched Justin's forehead and Justin shivered and pulled away, and Brian signed, Sorry, and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. Justin started coughing again, and Brian said, Easy, okay.

I went back to the kitchen and got started on the soup and was almost done when Brian came padding in, looking somehow even more exhausted than before. He asleep? I asked.

Brian nodded and leaned against the counter. God, he's really sick.

You're not looking so great yourself there.

Brian scratched the surface of the counter. It freaks me out when he's like...incapacitated like this. Normally when he's sick he's still present. He fights really hard for that.

Has it been like this the whole time?

No, I think he’s at the worst of it now. He was kind of okay yesterday, just really wiped out, and then last night it got really rough, started having a lot of trouble...and he’s still trying to worry about me, which is fucking annoying.

He loves you.

It’s because he can’t breathe. It's freaking him out, and he knows something’s wrong but his fever’s too high for him to figure out what it is. It’s pretty sad actually. He gave me a mocking look. Or it’s because he loves me.

You're such a dick.

He shrugged. I don't know why everyone always tries to turn Justin being terrified into something sweet. Why is that, because his face looks like that, so everything that happens to him is harmless and adorable? Because we know what's going on, so we're not scared, so that means it's okay? The problem is that he's miserable, not that there's an actual threat. He's miserable. That's not cute.

All right, all right.

He hates not being able to breathe. He's used to other shit, he's not used to this.

You know, there also is the factor that you actually are sick, so...maybe he's just worried because his husband's sick. I know that's difficult for you to imagine, having never been in a similar position.

He glared at me.

Go sit on the couch, I'll bring you soup. Should I bring Justin some?

No, he'll eat later. Let him sleep. He went back to the couch without any more arguing and curled up against one end, looking into the bedroom. He looked a lot younger than I'd ever seen him, and for a minute I could kind of picture how he must have looked when he and Justin met, back when apparently he was some superstud or whatever.

I brought a bowl of soup to the couch and checked his fever with my palm. He still made a face, but when he made eye contact he smiled, just a little bit.

Chicken and dumpling, I said. My favorite when I'm sick.

From a can?

Marie really strike you as much of a cook?

Brian tucked into his soup, and I checked on Justin to make sure he was still sleeping before I sat down by Brian's feet. Brian ate like he was starving, coughed a little, then said, All right. You have something to ask me?

Advice.

Right. The oracle.

It's a shopping thing.

Jesus, fucking finally. Are we throwing out all your clothes and starting from scratch or is this a gradual thing? Are we going now? Justin wouldn't be any help anyway so we could like cram him into a backpack or something, bring him along.

I shoved him. My clothes are fine.

Are they, though? He nodded towards the bedroom. He's awake, can he see you?

I think so. I waved until Justin looked at me. We're out here, okay?

Justin nodded, looking confused.

He need anything? Brian asked.

I turned back to Justin. You okay?

What time is it? Justin asked anxiously.

Back to Brian. Asking the time.

Yeah, he's been really stressed about that. He thinks he's supposed to be somewhere. Tell him it's bedtime.

So I did, and Justin seemed to sort of accept that and lay back down, but I could still see him tossing and turning out of the corner of my eye.

Tell him he looks nice, Brian said.

What? No.

Brian looked at me like I was the dumbest child he'd ever seen. Tell him Brian says he looks beautiful. It'll relax him.

And, you know, fuck if it didn't work.

It means I know he doesn't feel well, Brian said. He doesn't like to complain and then gets freaked out that maybe people don't know. It's fine. So...not your clothes. This is really disappointing.

Hopefully not for long.

All right, so what are we shopping for? Vehicle? Real estate? Russian orphan?

A ring.

Brian kind of froze, and I realized I was nervous, and then this huge smile broke across his face. I'd honestly never seen anything like it, not on him. He kind of looked...well. Sort of like Justin, if you want to know the truth.

Yes, he said. Yes, fuck yes.

Damn, this is unexpected. You're usually pretty ambivalent on marriage.

Well, I have a fever. And I might be ambivalent on marriage, but I am not ambivalent on jewelry. Or Daphne. And Daphne deserves the most goddamn beautiful fucking diamond this world has ever seen. He studied me. You're going to have to borrow some money. This is too big for you. I'll give you some money.

I do not need your fucking money.

Daphne needs a thirty thousand dollar diamond.

Daphne will get an eight thousand dollar diamond and she will love it.

Brian shook his head slowly. She's going to say no. She knows what she's worth.

The fuck did your ring cost?

Forty-two dollars, Brian said proudly. I know what I'm worth, too.

I snorted. All right, get your laptop, let's look.

Brian fished out his computer and in a flash was on a website and entering all sorts of parameters: karat size, clarity, cushion cut, platinum...do some guys just come with this stuff programmed in, what the hell? These guys are a client, Brian said. I can get you a deal. Find some you like and we'll go look at them tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

Yeah, okay, not tomorrow. But soon. He glanced towards the bedroom. Hang on. He put the laptop aside and started to get up.

I stopped him. No, I'm taking care of you two, I'll do it.

He studied me like I was going over some kind of assessment, then sighed and pointed to a box of tissues. He's sneezing a lot, check if he can breathe around it. And see if he'll take a decongestant. He doesn't have to, they make him anxious, so...his call. Check his temperature?

I tossed him the thermometer as I got up. You first.

Yes, mother.

I went into the bedroom and jeez, Brian wasn't kidding about sneezing a lot. Bless you, damn. Are you going for a record? I handed him the tissue box.

He sneezed a few hundred more times and blew his nose. How's Brian?

Making him take his temperature now. He's okay.

He wants to go out, he's getting stir-crazy. Don't let him.

He's not going anywhere with you like this, I said. He started coughing again, lightly at first and then hard enough to double him over, and I came around next to him and rubbed circles on his back. Brian appeared in the doorway and leaned against it, watching Justin with that gentle kind of amusement he always pulls out when Justin's sick.

101.3, warden, he said to me.

Justin frowned. That's up a little.

Yeah, I wouldn't worry about that if I were you, Bradley Cooper.

Bradley Cooper? I said.

He's really hot, Justin said. Fever joke.

Ah, of course.

Brian came over to the bed and pulled Justin into a kiss, then slipped the thermometer between his lips. He placed a hand on Justin's forehead, then his cheek, frowning, then went to the bathroom and ran a washcloth under the sink.

Could have sworn I told him to let me take care of you, I said to Justin.

He likes it. I worry about him because I'm scared he's going to die if I don't, he does it because he likes thinking about me because he's madly in love with me.

i saw that, you know, Brian said from the bathroom. Don't think I'm letting you get away with that just because you're acting like you're at death's door from the fucking flu.

You've been married for five years, I said. I think the secret's out.

No, Brian said. No one knows. He came back to the bedroom and lay the cloth over the back of Justin's neck. Justin shivered and held his arms up for a hug, and Brian gave him one, with an eye roll. How's your head?

Justin shook his head and sneezed.

You want meds for that?

No, they keep me awake.

Don't think wild horses could do that right now.

Probably could with my allergies.

Brian's eyes were so damn warm, and it wasn't the fever. Yeah, probably. Speaking of, you need your inhaler again, Darth Vader. How is that thermometer not done yet, you still climbing?

I guess so.

There we go, Brian said, and he took it out and chewed the inside of his cheek. Yeah, you're up, love. Hanging in there?

Yeah, I'm good. He reached up and touched Brian's cheek, and Brian closed his eyes for a second. Justin's hand started to shake against Brian's face, and Brian opened his eyes and gave it a quick kiss before he guided it to Justin's lap.

How are you? Justin asked, left-handed.

I'm okay. Worried.

Yeah, me too.

Brian gave him his inhaler and kissed his cheek. That's because you're delirious.

Probably not, but I'm not confident enough to be sure of that.

Brian laughed and kissed his nose, which set up another round of sneezing. Yikes, he said, with a small laugh. He looked up at me and said with one hand, while he rubbed Justin's back with the other, Maybe some soup now?

Yeah, I'll warm some up.

Thanks.

I heated some soup back up and Brian helped Justin out to the living room and set him on the floor cushions to eat. He had a pretty significant seizure after he was finished, and he didn't lose consciousness but he was so, so tired afterwards, shivering from the after effects and holding onto himself. He talked out loud to Brian a little bit but Brian said he wasn't making a lot of sense.

Can you pick him up? Brian asked me, and God, he looked fucking...shattered to ask me that, like he was failing.

Yeah, I think so. You need to drink some water.

He nodded a little, eyes on Justin. I picked him up—I work out, and he's not heavy—and got him back in bed, and he fell asleep just about immediately. Brian was still standing where I left him, running a hand over his mouth, so I got him back on the couch and brought him a glass of water, which he drained in about a second and a half.

He shook his head quickly. Rings.

We don't have to—

No, rings, come on.

Okay.

We scrolled through rings for I don't know how long, comparing tons of them side by side. Every time Brian liked one he was like, I'm just going to add it to the cart, just so we don't lose it, and before long there a hundred thousand dollars of engagement rings in my cart and I was so fucking scared he was going to buy them all in some feverish stupor.

How are you going to ask her? he asked me eventually.

Oh, fuck, I haven't even thought about it.

Don't do it in public, he said. Not with Daphne. Something low-key.

You think she wants something low-key and a thirty thousand dollar ring.

I was vetoed on the thirty thousand dollar ring, he said. If you recall. He shook his head. You're going to mess it up. You should let me do it.

You propose to Daphne?

Don't worry, I'll tell her it's for you.

I leaned back against the couch. How'd you ask Justin?

Oh, it was very romantic. I brought him Kinnetik's health insurance policy and an estimate of what his medical care was going to cost on his current insurance that I was already fucking paying for and what it would cost him to get him a better plan and told him it would save me some money if we got married.

That is romantic. What did he say?

He said he didn't want to get married.

Seriously? Why?

Brian tapped a few keys, studying a ring. Uh, if I had to guess? I'd say because...he didn't want to get married.

I will never understand you two.

No you will not. He startled suddenly and looked towards the bedroom doorway, where Justin was standing there leaning against it. Jesus, scared the shit out of me. Grab him, he said to me.

Yeah, hey, I said, and I got and wrapped an arm around Justin's waist before his legs gave out. Where are we going, bathroom?

“Brian,” Justin said, which I could lipread just fine, and Brian held out an arm while he typed with the other. I helped Justin over to the couch with his shaky legs, and Brian held Justin into him and ran his hand up and down his arm to warm him up, looking at the screen.

Diamond rings? Justin said.

Yeah, figured I'd get you something sparkly and we could do it right this time. Christ, you're a mess. He plucked a tissue out of the box on the table and swiped at Justin's nose.

Are you going to wear a white dress?

Sure. Brian shivered a little, and Justin tugged the blanket off the back of the couch and put it over his shoulders. Thank you, Brian said.

What time is it? Justin asked.

You don't have to be anywhere.

I just want to know if it's time for bed.

You've been sleeping all day, Brian said, kissing his nose.

Yeah, but you haven't.

Brian studied him. Maybe I could use a nap.

Justin nodded.

And maybe a hand job.

Okay, but I'm gonna do it...very slow.

Brian laughed and said, Okay, and stood up with a hand on the couch before he helped up Justin. You going to stick around for this? he asked me.

No, I'm okay, I said. Call me when the fever breaks and we'll go shopping.

All right. Brian got Justin to the doorway of the bedroom, then said, Just make her dinner and ask her. Keep it simple.

Yeah, okay. Thanks.

What's going on? Justin said.

Nothing.

I feel awful. The walls are moving.

I know. Me too. Bed.

**

I made dinner for Daphne that night, even though I didn't have a ring yet. Just for practice, or something. She came home from work and gave me a long hug. God, I had such a fucking long day, she said. This is just what I needed. How are Brian and Justin, did you go?

I went. They're going to live, I'm pretty sure. Oh, hang on. I went over to the stove. There's garlic bread.

You made garlic bread?

Yeah, it's your favorite.

She stood at the entrance to the kitchen, watching me with this funny look on her face.

What? I said. It's not your favorite?

No, it is.

Okay then...

Derek, she said.

Yeah?

Will you marry me?