makinglies | Just the sniffles

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Just the sniffles

[It's very rare that any of the cyborgs ever get sick. After all, when building an advanced super weapon you don't want it to succumb to disease. It's not unheard of, they do still have organic parts, but for as long as Albert had been a cyborg, he'd never once fallen ill.

Until today, that is.

It takes his eyes longer than usual to focus when he opens them in the morning, woken by Jet rolling out of bed. That in and of itself is his first clue, that Jet is up before him. The man may not sleep until noon as he used to but Albert's still usually a much earlier riser, or at least gets up at the same time. Yet here he is still huddled under the blankets while Jet brushes his teeth in his boxers, with absolutely no drive to leave the bed.

His vision is fuzzy, his head aches, and what little real skin he has is cold and clammy (a strange sensation when only roughly fifteen percent of your body is honest flesh) save for his face, which feels hot.

With a groan, Albert curls over with the comforter, his steel-gray hair barely visible peeking up from the bundle of blankets.]

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[He gave his 'patient' an hour of peace before growing restless with his lack of helping. Sickness was just as frustrating as injury, there wasn't much you could do but wait for time to do it's thing. But that didn't make that waiting any easier, he felt like there was something he should be doing to make Albert feel better, something more than giving him some peace and quiet to rest in.

It occurred to him later than he'd be comfortable admitting that, just because he couldn't cook didn't mean there weren't others he could look to for help. Chang was the group's cook, but Jet was looking for something a little closer to what he considered 'traditional,' so he turned to Francoise instead.

It only took a couple moment's faltering explanation to convince Frannie into helping him--thankfully with a limited amount of that knowing tone of hers--and she was at their door with the necessary ingredients. The Frenchwoman did most of the work while Jet watched, but he helped when he could by giving her things she needed and following simple directions when she gave them. Soon enough, the apartment filled with the smells of a chicken broth soup.]

[Albert only made it about two stories into the front section of the newspaper before his eyesight became bleary even with his reading glasses. He fell into a doze for about an hour, tossing fitfully and waking himself with coughing frequently. It's during one of these unfortunate awakenings that Albert catches the scent of food from the kitchen.

Feeling a mixture of ominous at Jet's use of the kitchen and appreciative that he would even try for Albert, the German creeps his way from bed to peek over the railing in the loft, relief showing on his face when he catches sight of two blonds instead of just the one.]

Good morning, Francoise.

[His voice still sounds crackly but it's deep and carries.]

[The stew was almost ready by the time Albert's voice drifts down to the pair. Jet sends a glare up at the man, but Francoise only smiled gently at him.]

Good afternoon, Albert. I must admit, I was surprised when Jet told me you were sick, but I'm glad it's just a cold. We're making some broth to help with your throat; would you like to have it down here or up there?

[Of course, when she said 'we' it was really just her, but she intended to give some of the credit to her culinary-challenged friend.

Said friend was currently getting bowl and spoon out, choosing to spare himself his self-consciousness by doing something else.]

Is it afternoon?

[Whoops. Maybe he'd slept longer than he'd intended. He makes his way downstairs, only pausing to cough into his hand once or twice.]

I'll be alright. Especially considering the food. This was your idea?

[He looks at Jet, giving a soft smile as he sits at the table. They're all three aware that most of the credit goes to Francoise considering Jet burns things by looking at them, but Francoise doesn't usually just drop by and cook. Jet must have called her.]

Yeah.

[He glances at Albert, his face coloring a bit more, before bringing the bowl over to the pot and giving it his rapt attention.]

Is it ready, Frannie?

[Francoise smiled knowingly but went over to the pot to stir it a bit. She dipped a spoon into the liquid and tasted it before nodding and turning off the stove.]

That should do it. I'll trust you to serve it for him, Chang wanted my help in his restaurant tonight, so I better get ready for that.

[She stood on her tip-toes to kiss Jet on the cheek and then went to Albert to lay a hand on his shoulder and kiss his cheek as well.]

I'll see you two later. Feel better, Albert.

[She smiled at them again and let herself out, living Jet to place a steaming bowl of her broth in front of the 'patient.']

I couldn't think of anything else, so I called Frannie...well, I hope it helps, anyway.

[After a goodbye to Francoise, Albert turns back to his meal but he doesn't dig in quite yet. Instead, he looks over the rim of the bowl at Jet with a somewhat mischievous grin, though his mood is a little dampened by the steam from the soup making his nose run.]

You didn't have to do that.

[It's not a reprimand, more a statement of acknowledgement at Jet trying to take care of him.]

You should show this side of yourself more often.

[Jet scoffed lightly, his arms crossing as he leaned against the counter.]

Of course not. 'Have to' wasn't why I did it.

Now shut up and eat your lunch.

[While he ignores that last comment and starts cleaning up.]

[The playful smile doesn't leave Albert's face as he eats. Well, not right away at least. It's difficult to keep up a good attitude when you keep sneezing into your soup.

He finishes it off, but by the time he's done his face looks a little redder and his eyes won't focus entirely.]

Do you want some help cleaning?

[He can't let a cold keep him from helping out, after all.

[The look that crosses Jet's face can only be described as 'bitch please.']

No way, the only thing you're doing is going right back upstairs.

[He dries his hands, tosses Albert's bowl in the sink and walked over to the German's side. His Hand curled gently around his partner's wrist to tug him into standing and towards the stairs.]

Come on, I'll keep you company this time.

[He'd missed Albert's company over the day. It was one thing when the older man went to work, but it was something else when he was right there and Jet had to distance himself voluntarily.]

I'm not an invalid, it's just a cold.

[Definitely a grumble, but Jet fussing over him isn't nearly as irritating as it should be. In fact, it's nice and if Albert's face weren't hot already it would grow that way at the attention. He follows Jet's guidance, stumbling minimally since the stuffiness in his head has his coordination off.]

Are you certain? You won't be bored?

[He can't help but have a hopeful note in his questioning. Frankly, he feels somewhat better just with Jet at his side, even if they're not doing anything of import.]

[Jet's grip tightened in the hopes of stabilizing the other man a bit and led them back up the stairs to their bedroom.]

Nah, don't worry about it.

[He flashed a small smile at Albert and led them to the bed, only letting go so he could pull the blankets back for them.]

Besides, how else am I going to make sure you stay in bed this time?

Oh I see, you're just going to sit on me like you did this morning.

[He shoots a playful smirk at his partner and lets himself drop unsteadily into the sheets.]

I'm not sure it's a good idea. What if I'm contagious?

[He frowns a little at that. It's not a joke, what if he is contagious?]

[Albert is contagious, Jet had certainly caught a bad case of him.

He shrugs at that frown and only tugs Albert down to the bed with him, pulling the blankets up to their waists before pulling the older man close.

Jet tucks the silver head under his chin, making his own arm and shoulder the pillow while his arms curled in almost protectively like a blanket.

When he speaks, his voice is quiet and gentle, a light rumble over Albert's head.]

Then you can sit on me and shove food down my face when I'm sick with your weird cyborg plague. For now, get some sleep.

[Albert fits in Jet's arms without much preamble. There's very little readjusting of position at all. He knows where he fits in the younger man's embrace. Jet's shirt is cool against his too-warm face and the soft beating of the other man's heart is soothing.]

Mm. Your funeral.

[He already sounds as if he's dozing, though it's punctuated by a quiet cough and a clearing of his throat. Then Albert's arm is around Jet's waist, fitted comfortably right above his hip with fingers absently tracing the panel that peeks out from under Jet's shirt as the garment rides up a bit with how they're laying.]

Yeah, yeah. Doubt some bug'd manage that much.

[Jet's hands came to rest against Albert's back and in his hair, petting the strands absently. It wasn't something he usually did, but it was comforting when Albert did it to him, so he figured he'd try it.

It was oddly soothing to the blond as well.

The touch sends a bit of a shiver down his spine, but he doesn't react beyond that, focusing instead on the rate of Albert's breathing and listening for when its pace would tell him his 'patient' was sleeping.]

[Another soft hum comes from Albert as his eyes drop closed and he snuggles a bit more into Jet's arms. He's not usually quite so keen on contact when sleeping, not this closely anyway. He'll cuddle, certainly, but once it's time to sleep he generally finds it more comfortable to have a little space. Not so, today. Instead Albert finds it easier to doze with Jet so close, fingers threading through his hair in a constant reminder that his partner is here and wants to take care of him. He needs that reminder sometimes, when he feels like he's always the one to be taking care of Jet.

His breathing slows, his fingers gradually stop their tracing, and soon enough Albert is snoring softly with his nose pressed against Jet's neck.]

[Jet smiled to himself as he listened and felt his partner drift off to sleep.

Gently, so as not to wake him up, he pressed his cheek against the soft silver hair that his hand was still stroking in a show of affection he was generally hesitant to display; with Albert asleep, it was easier.

He hadn't felt tired when he'd covered them with the blankets and gotten settled, but as time went by, he found the warmth and generally even sounds of his partner were making his eyelids heavier and, eventually, he gave in to a light doze himself.]

[He dreams. It's not often that he dreams, but something about being sick, of being curled up in Jet's arms triggers it. They're neither good no bad, just strange. Surreal landscapes, color dripping into vivid pools of light, like luminescent paint all dotting a flat landscape. He could reach out a brush and paint with them, paint the flat sky into brilliant colors. And he does. His arm is a brush, after all. He uses it to streak the air with light and color, vivid hues in intricate patterns and flow, all born from a hand meant to create and not destroy.

Perhaps it is a good dream, if surreal.

Unfortunately it's not to last. He coughs himself awake, a deep bronchial sound that's wet around the edges, and once he is awake he finds his entire body aches. Every remaining muscle, even under the metal plating. The entire effect isn't particularly painful, just on the whole entirely uncomfortable and Albert groans as he roll closer into Jet, as if that embrace can shield him from his own illness.]

[Jet didn't drift so far as to dream and any trace of sleep was erased by the sound of Albert coughing. It was concerning how bad the cough seemed and when Albert curled closer, Jet's arms tightened around him, one hand rubbing soothing circles into his partner's back.

Jet wracked his brain for another solution, something else that helped with this kind of thing that he'd just forgotten. Finally, it occurred to him, it was way down deep in memories he tried not to think about anymore, but he could remember a time when things didn't suck and his dad had gotten sick.

He didn't linger on the memory or any others that cropped up with it, choosing to pour his focus back on Albert. He pulled away a little so he could see the other man's face, though his arms didn't drop their protective hold. "Hey, Al...you know, a hot shower or bath or something might help. What do you say?"

[He vaguely remembers getting plopped into a hot bath by his mother when he was small and would get sick, so the idea is sound. It just takes him a moment to register the suggestion through the upwelling of gratitude and affection that's come to a head with Jet holding him so gently and close. It's beyond comforting in a way that he's generally been afraid to ask for since it's only ever come up after traumatic experiences between them in the past. But he likes this, being able to relax and let down his walls and just be allowed to be weak without judgement.

It prompts him to plant a light kiss on Jet's neck. And then another.]

Only if you join me.

[He'll continue to pepper Jet's neck and chin with kisses until he agrees.]

[He smirks a bit, pulling away from those very troublesome kisses.]

I thought you were sick.

[But his smirk becomes more pronounced as he extracts himself and stands only to reach out again to help Albert up off the bed. No, the older man wasn't an invalid, as he said, but Jet didn't exactly want him losing his balance and stumbling into something.

Mm.. you're already infected by now anyway.

[Maybe it's the heat of his body or the fog in his brain but he has this sudden complete want of the man beside him, an overpowering need to be as close as humanly possible and show Jet just how grateful he is for the tender care he's been showing.

He staggers to his feet with Jet's help but waylays their journey to the bathroom by continuing to attack Jet's neck and shoulders with his mouth, sometimes kissing, sometimes nibbling, and his hands roaming a bit more sloppily and a lot more boldly than usual.]

[Albert's lips pull a breathy noise from the blond and it's honestly difficult not to just send them both back to the bed. Not that they couldn't continue this in the shower, but getting there was going to be difficult.

He brought his hands to Albert's waist and bent down to capture those lips with his own while Jet's hands slowly slipped under the hem of Albert's shirt. He slipped the garment up, making sure his fingers ran across skin and metal as he did, and finally pulled away to pull the shirt the rest of the way off.

He stripped his own shirt off as well before pulling the German close again so he could return to kissing him gently. The rest could come off in a moment.]

[While normally he would have protested being the first to have his clothing peeled off, today it feels so much nicer to have the air against his skin. It's cooler, even moreso if he presses against Jet, the younger man's core temperature warmer than his usually is, but right now feeling just as welcome as a block of ice in the dead of summer.

He gives another little hum right against those soft lips as his hands find their way into Jet's pants and gently squeeze equally soft cheeks.]

[Jet groaned into the kiss, his grip against Albert tightening as he pressed in closer.

He wanted to just stay like that, but he finally got up the motivation to run his hands down Albert's arms to catch his wrists and pull them out from under the fabric and back between them.

He broke the kiss but barely pulled away so that, when he talked, their lips still brushed together. He really didn't want to have to stop doing that.]

Come on, you need the steam from the water.

[No matter Albert's response, the blond pulls away towards the bathroom again, determined to tug the older cyborg along with him.]

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