Justin unlocked and pulled open the heavy metal door of Brian's apartment and threw his bag on the floor, before shutting the door and resetting the alarm. He'd learned his lesson long ago.

He saw his boyfriend's coat on the back of the sofa and knew he'd come home early again. The briefcase was balancing precautious on a stool.

Justin thought Brian was probably in bed, wallowing in misery and self-pity. He'd learned how to deal with Brian since they had the fight about his disease. If Justin acted nonchalant and bossed Brian around, they got along well. The second Justin let his guard down and actually asked Brian how he was feeling, the latter would explode, not liking to be babied.

"Guess what I had to paint today in class," Justin said excitedly, walking toward the bedroom, but changed direction remembering he was hungry. He also knew Brian hadn't eaten.

As he heated some soup, he waited for his partner to answer. When that didn't happen, Justin went on unperturbed, used to being ignored by Brian. He knew Brian was listening, most likely lounged on the bed and smoking.

"We had to paint our favorite thing in the world," Justin explained, busying himself with heating two bowls of soup. "Can you guess what mine was?"

Met with silence, Justin grew annoyed and stomped to the bedroom.

"Your dick, you asshole!" He hissed as he pushed the panel frames open. He blanched when he didn't find his partner in bed. "Brian? Are you home?"

Everything indicated Brian was indeed home.

A sudden chill ran down Justin's spine as he rushed to the bathroom.

"Brian!"

Justin gasped, his heart stuttering as he fell to his knees next to the stubborn man coiled up on the floor.

Having his shoulder shaken, Brian blinked his eyes open, looking around confused. "Why am I on the bathroom floor?"

Justin pushed back all his worry, and schooled his features. "You tell me. I was talking to you earlier, and when you didn't answer, I thought you were being an asshole. Then I found you here."

Brian groaned, rolling on his back and staring at the ceiling. "I don't even remember getting home. At this point in time, I'm not sure if I should fire Theodore or give him a raise."

"A raise. Always a raise." Justin winked, and saw a ghost of a smile appear on his partner's face. "Now, get your ass off the floor before you catch a cold."

"Yeah, because I attract diseases that start with C." Brian sat up, bracing himself on the toilet. His attempt at a joke earned him a slap over the back of his head.

Justin dug his nails in his palms to restrain himself from helping Brian. It took him a few tries to get up and walk the short distance to the bed where he fell down face first. Not moving an inch.

"You should sit up, at least. It's dinner time. That is unless you want it through a straw," Justin commanded, walking to the kitchen.

"I'm not an incapacitated little faggot!"

"Prove it!"

As Justin took his time loading a tray with their bowls, spoons, and napkins, he hastily wiped a tear rolling down his nose. He'd promised himself to stay strong. He was aware Brian could see through his bullshit, but he appreciated the tough façade.

They sat on the bed, and in between spoonfuls, Justin retold his story to Brian. When he was finished eating, he realized his partner hadn't touched his bowl of soup.

"Aren't you hungry?"

Brian made a face. "I've become intolerant to chicken soup."

"But it's the only thing… Are you allowed mashed potatoes?" Justin remembered his mother used to give him mashed potatoes when he was feeling sick and not in the mood for anything else.

Seeing Brian's eyes light up, Justin knew he'd suffer the consequences if it made Brian sick. It would be the first time since the radiation started that Brian ate anything other than soup.

Justin quickly prepared a small portion of mashed potatoes, and by the time he climbed back in bed, Brian was dozing off, his head lolling to the side.

"Dinner's ready." Justin patted his lover's hand.

Brian jerked a little, startled. "Tired," he mumbled.

Justin nudged Brian's lips with a spoonful of mashed potatoes. Brian eye's fluttered open and he stared, amused, then he opened his mouth dutifully, accepting the food.

It was probably the most intimate thing they'd done—aside from sex.

Brian chewed slowly each bite, and Justin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from commenting on what he could possibly be chewing. Half an hour later, the plate was empty.

"Don't tell anyone what just happened," Brian threatened.

Smirking, Justin almost skipped to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to brag that he'd fed Brian, though at least Daphne was going to hear about it. By the time he returned, Brian was fast asleep in the middle of the bed.

Justin settled on Brian's chest, hugging him tightly and closing his eyes. He focused on the thumping heartbeat against his cheek, trying not to think of what if. But his mind reminded him of how he almost lost Brian. A few tears rolled down his nose and he sniffed, knowing Brian wouldn't want him to be a sissy—the very reason he hadn't told anybody in the beginning.

It felt like they'd just fallen asleep when Justin was brutally wakened by being shoved away.

Fuck, he though worried. The mashed potatoes had been a bad idea.

Brian groaned and sat on the edge of the bed, holding his stomach as if not sure to get up or not. Justin gave up pretense of being strong.

He crawled to his partner and helped him to the bathroom right on time. He'd suffer the consequences of coddling Brian when he finished barfing. When it seemed to be over, Justin handed him a glass of water, strategically placed on the sink.

He yawned loudly as Brian cleansed his mouth, slumping against the toilet seat. "Could you do this before going to bed?" Justin tried lighting up the mood.

"And break the three AM barfing session? No way."

"For a change. I'd like to sleep through the night. I feel guilty, though."

"I wanted to eat something else. We're equally guilty." Brian groaned, sticking his head in the toilet again.

Justin reached a tentative hand to Brian's back. When he wasn't shrugged off, he rubbed between his shoulder blades.

"What are you doing?" Brian demanded after cleansing his mouth again.

"Your shoulders can get tense while vomiting. I know that."

"So you decided to give me a massage?" Justin knew Brian hated how careful and attending Justin was with him. Even though, Brian preferred to stay strong, Justin knew he secretly loved having him around. Of course, he'd never admit that to himself or out loud.

"Come to bed and I might give you a real massage." Justin got up and went back to bed. He had to wait a good ten minutes for Brian to appear.

~O~O~O~

The next day, Justin was at the diner on his busy shift when he got a call from Ted. He'd never called Justin before, even though he'd had his number. Justin's mind raced with every horrible scenario.

"Five minute break!" He called to Debbie, rushing out the diner, then answered his phone.

"Justin!" Ted sounded at the end of his wits.

"Hi, Ted." Justin felt wary. Something was wrong with Brian. "Is there something wrong with Brian?"

"Actually, that's why I called. He had another round of radiation this morning."

"I know. If he's not feeling okay, send him home. I'll get there as soon as I can."

"That's the thing! The stubborn asshole won't listen to me anymore!"

"Put him on the phone." Justin rolled his eyes. It was typical Brian to reject any kind of help.

"He's been in the bathroom for the past fifteen minutes. I can't babysit him. We have a presentation in half an hour, and he thinks he's going to lead it."

"Fuck. I'll be right there." It was worse than Justin originally thought. Brian was overdoing it. And his body was rebelling against him after being subjected to so many things in a short period of time.

Hanging up the phone, Justin rushed back inside the diner. "Chicken soup, Deb!" He untied his apron, shoving it on a shelf behind the counter.

"Another one? What's with everyone today?" She demanded, ordering the soup to the cook.

"To go," Justin added, pulling his bag out and making sure he had everything he needed. "Hurry."

Debbie sobered. "Oh, Sunshine!" She reached to stroke his cheek.

"He's so fucking stubborn. He's even stopped listening to Ted about going home when he doesn't feel well."

"I hear you do an amazing job at keeping him on his toes."

"I'm not nearly as strong as I show him. I cry myself to sleep every night. And I know Brian can hear me."

"If it wasn't for you ordering him around, he'd probably give up."

"Brian never gives up. He's a strong, stubborn prick," Justin muttered.

Debbie handed him the soup container. "Make sure he eats it all."

"After his session this morning, he'd barf out even one spoonful, but I'll try."

~O~O~O~

When Justin arrived at Kinnetik, Cynthia welcomed him with a hug, looking relieved. "Thank God you're here."

"That bad?"

"And then some. He's in his office. I better run and help Ted with the presentation. He's helpless when it comes to advertising."

"Good luck!"

"You too." She patted his arm, rushing down the hall in the opposite way.

Justin found Brian coiled upon the couch with his suit jacket covering him. He placed the food on the table, before kneeling at his partner's side. As Justin reached a hand to move the hair off Brian's face, his cloudy, hazel eyes opened.

"My personal tormentor sent straight from Hell."

"That's me—at your service." Justin smirked, not missing a beat.

Brian tried to smile, but grimaced instead. "If you're at my service, can you blow me?"

"Not part of my duties, sorry. You need to eat, keep it down, and maybe then I'll blow you."

"You're so mean; there are no words in the thesaurus to describe it."

Fighting off a smile, Justin helped Brian up and fed him a few spoonfuls of chicken broth.

Brian turned to wink at his companion. "I might keep it down. What do you know? The prospect of being blown… Fuck." He didn't finish his bragging, because he had to make a run to the bathroom.

Sighing, Justin followed him, leaning against the doorjamb.

"When this is over, I will personally kill you if you barf for whatever reason," he muttered, handing Brian a glass of water.

"Duly noted," Brian said, bending over the toilet again.