sickfic requested by an anon on tumblr! I feel like everyone does fic's where Adam's the sick one and Ronan is all domestic SO I wanted to switch it around just to see how that plays out. Hope you enjoy!
"I'm fine," Ronan argued, though the cough following betrayed him. It was muffled over the phone, but Adam could still hear the harsh sound. "It's just a cold."
Adam shook his head, letting out a long breath. "You're not fine, you sound horrible. And this 'cold' has lasted for nearly a week."
"Exactly, it's been a week, it's going to be over soon."
"Or it's going to stay this way until you treat it," Adam said back, raising his eyebrows despite the fact that Ronan couldn't see him. "You need to rest--"
"I have a whole farm to take care of, Parrish!"
Adam sighed. He did have a point. He couldn't let the animals starve and the crops die while he stayed in bed and recovered. Opal could help him, but there's only so much that she could (and willingly would) do on her own. Adam knew that part of the reason Ronan was still sick was because of all the work he's been forcing himself to do this past week, and there was only one solution he could think of.
"I'm coming home then. I'll take care of you and the Barns," Adam said, leaning back in his chair. He tried to ignore the piles of books and papers on his desk in front of him and focus on his boyfriend.
"No, I'm fine, Parrish, and you have finals soon--"
"I'll be fine. I can study while you rest. And tomorrow's Friday anyway, and I can stay the weekend and drive back Monday morning before my afternoon lecture." It would be hard, and long, and not ideal for Adam, but he didn't care. He loved Ronan and wanted to take care of him and make sure he got better. Plus, seeing him would obviously be nice. It'd been two months since they last saw each other, and Adam missed him more than he could fathom.
"Ronan, I'm coming. End of story. Now go to bed." Adam hung up, took a deep breath, and started packing.
Thirty minutes later, Adam was set to go. He had emailed his political science professor saying he'd be missing tomorrow's class--luckily his only Friday class--and already gotten a kind response. A benefit of being a hardworking student who never misses class is that when something does come up, the professors are pretty understanding about it. He'd text a friend later about getting notes from the class.
Adam gathered his things -- a small duffle of clothes and a nearly overflowing backpack of books -- and headed out, locking his door behind him. It'd be nice to be back at the Barns and out of his small studio apartment. He loved the apartment and was grateful to be living alone for his last two years of undergrad, but the thought of being in a real house, his real home, made him ache with want.
He filled the Hondoyota with his things, queued up hours worth of podcasts on his phone, and set out for Virginia.
Hours later, when both the night sky and exhaustion had set it, Adam arrived at the Barns. He braved the security system, the one aspect of home he never really missed, and pulled up beside the parked BMW. Adam smiled just seeing the car.
The Barns were quiet, as it was nearly 10pm, and Adam could hear crickets chirping as he unloaded the car and headed inside.
He quietly unlocked the front door and tiptoed inside, unsure of if Ronan would be asleep or not. The rational part of his mind hoped he was asleep, getting the rest he dearly needed, but the selfish part of his mind wanted him awake, to talk to him, to hold him.
Ronan was, however, asleep on the couch, the Food Network playing softly on the TV in front of him, the remote resting on his stomach. He looked horrible -- well, as horrible as an exceedingly attractive Ronan Lynch could look. His face was paler than ever, dark circles under his eyes, and he looked a little thin. This was definitely not a cold.
Adam carefully kneeled beside the couch and rested a gentled hand on his forehead. He was burning up. Adam stood up, remembering the medicine he'd brought from Boston, but was stopped by a gentle hand at his wrist. He turned back around to see Ronan's eyes fluttering open, his hand gently circling his wrist. "Hey, Parrish," he whispered, his voice raspy and worn.
Adam knelt down again, shifting so their fingers were interlocking. "You look like shit, Lynch," he smiled. "And you're burning up."
"You think I'm hot?" Ronan smirked.
Adam just shook his head. "Have you taken any medicine? Have you eaten today?"
"I took some Tylenol this afternoon and had a sandwich," Ronan shrugged. "Not really hungry though."
"Okay, let me g--"
"Adam," Ronan interrupted, reaching up to touch his face. "I missed you." The softness in his voice made Adam melt just a little.
"I missed you too, Ro," he said, placing his hand over Ronan's on his cheek. "Let's get you some medicine and soup and then to bed, okay?"
Ronan grumbled. "You sound like my mom."
Adam laughed, "Or just your boyfriend who wants to take care of you?"
"Whatever, mom," Ronan smiled. Adam shook his head and stood up, placing a gentle kiss on Ronan's forehead. He grabbed the severe cold medicine he brought and unwrapped the pills for Ronan, handing him a glass of water from the kitchen. Ronan begrudgingly swallowed the pills while Adam set about heating up some soup. The Barns, per usual, were fully stocked in the kitchen department. Adam quickly found a can of chicken soup and warmed it on the stove. He found a tupperware of spaghetti and heated that up for himself.
"Here, try to eat this," Adam said, handing him the bowl. "I know it's nothing compared to anything you cook, but it's something. I can try making real soup tomorrow."
"Yeah, right," Ronan laughed, though he swallowed a spoonful of broth. "Your cooking sucks."
"It's not that bad. It's just not great compared to yours." Adam held up a forkful of spaghetti to demonstrate. "An Italian's chef's pasta would suck compared to this."
"Parrish, that's Barilla," Ronan teased.
"Okay, well you get the point," Adam said, smacking his leg gently. "Come on, finish your soup so we can go to bed."
"Somebody's eager to take me to bed," Ronan grinning, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Oh, shut up, Lynch, and eat your damn soup."
The next morning, Adam woke up early to feed the animals, water the crops, and do all of the other things that Ronan usually does on his own. Opal, who was somehow asleep last night during Adam's return, practically tackled him when she awoke and saw him with the cows. She giddily helped him finish the mornings' tasks, encouraged by Adam's presence to behave, and obediently went to take a shower when they went inside.
Ronan was awake, having slept in till 9 for the first time in possibly years, and was sitting back on the couch, a mug of tea in his hand. He looked so much better already, just from a solid night of rest. "Mornin', farmer."
Adam laughed, chucking off his boots. "Did you take the medicine I left on your nighstand?" Ronan nodded. "Did you eat breakfast?"
"No, not hungry."
"Okay well, you should still eat something, so how about some oatmeal?"
"Are you going to burn it?"
"That was one time!" Adam argued, a smile on his face. He really was the worst cook possible, but he wanted to take care of Ronan the best he could. "Plus you have the microwavable kind, so I can just make that." Adam turned to go to the kitchen, but Ronan called out his name.
"Come here," Ronan said, his arms held out like a child. Adam rolled his eyes but obliged, sitting down on the couch next to him, Ronan's arms wrapped around his neck. "I love you," he said.
"I love you too," Adam murmured. Even after nearly 4 years of dating, the words sometimes always shocked Adam. The fact that someone else could love him so much, and that he could return that love tenfold. "I would kiss you if you weren't so sick." He stroked the side of his face gently, the feel of soft stubble warm to his hand.
"I know," Ronan said, turning his head to catch the inside of Adam's palm with his mouth and press a kiss there. "Thanks for coming to take care of me."
"Always." Adam took Ronan's hand and pressed his own lips against it, slowly. "Tamquam--"
"--alter idem," Ronan responded automatically, smiling. "Now bring me some oatmeal, Parrish!"