"This is all your fault," Adam groans from underneath a pile of blankets and duvets. He looks flushed and grumpy, surrounded by a dozen crumpled up tissues and even his hair looks deflated, matted against his head. Some mean part of Kris wants to take a picture and tweet it to the world, but instead he just sighs and sets the trashcan next to the bed. Adam sits up a little and gathers up the tissues, throwing them in the trash.
"It's actually not my fault," Kris says, feeling Adam's forehead. All it really tells him is that Adam still feels hot to the touch, and they have thermometers that could tell him that, but he knows a cool touch of a hand can feel pretty amazing when you have a fever. "In fact I clearly remember telling you to not kiss me because I had a cold, but someone had to be all, "Oh I'm not gonna get it 'cause I'm, like, Batman," and do it anyway."
Adam makes a face. "I didn't say it like that, and anyway-" he pauses to sneeze and blow his nose, and Kris sighs. Adam slumps back against his pillows. "This sucks."
"I know," Kris says, and he does, because he had the same thing last week and it did suck. However, he didn't have Adam taking care of him, because Adam was on the other side of the world, so Kris was stuck on his own for the most part, with the exception of someone dropping off soup every now and then. He watched a lot of movies for about five minutes before falling asleep, and when he woke up he texted Adam all the weird things he dreamt about. (The weirdest was probably the one Kris had after falling asleep mid-Hairspray, where Adam kept ironing things while wearing an enormous wig.) Adam in turn sent him get well cards from every city he went to, which Kris knows is totally cliché but he kind of loved them anyway. And he'll never admit it, but Adam's insistence to kiss him when he got home, even though Kris was totally gross, felt pretty nice.
Adam looks at Kris pitifully and Kris relents, climbing into the bed next to him. Adam feels like a furnace and it's not comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but Adam sighs, sounding almost content, and Kris can't bring himself to care about his own discomfort. "I had a dream where there were a million microscopic versions of you," Adam says, burrowing closer.
Kris pushes Adam's hair back gently from where it falls on his face. "Yeah?"
"Mmmm," Adam says. "All of you were wearing chainmail, and you were, like, in my bloodstream, fighting evil bacteria. Those looked like dragons." He pauses, and then frowns, like he's just remembering another detail. "And sometimes Gokey."
Kris has to laugh, because honestly that's just weird but also kind of adorable, and even though Adam is cranky and grumpy and difficult as hell when he's sick, Kris still loves him. "I would totally fight Gokey and dragons for you. In chainmail," Kris says, but he doesn't get a reply other than Adam's breath against his neck.
Kris reaches for the remote and watches muted daytime TV with closed captioning on, Adam's stuffy snuffles next to his ear, and thinks to himself this has to be love.