Sick people. Justin hates being around sick people. Doesn’t matter who it is, just doesn’t like being around them and all their nasty germs. He moves under the scalding water of the shower and scrubs harder at his skin, mentally thinking of all the germs that are probably crawling on him. He knows he’s acting irrationally, he does, but he really doesn’t care. Just like he knows it isn’t Lance’s fault that he is sick, which at the moment is one more thing Justin doesn’t care about. All Justin wants in the world at that moment is to be clean and germ free. That; and for some benevolent force in the universe to clean up Justin’s clothes, his sneakers, the bed, the bedroom and Lance. Oh and if the force could do it by the time Justin is out of the shower, that’d be perfect.
It’s not until the third scrub down with the antibacterial body scrub that he realizes that once he’s out of the shower has cleaned up all the mess, that he’s just going to want another shower. He picks up the body scrub bottle and tries to see if there’s enough in it for another shower. Frowning, he thinks he might have to use something else next time.
Out of the shower, he wraps his body in a clean towel and makes a wide circle around his dirty clothes that he’d dropped on the floor before getting in the shower. He’ll come get those things last. After he gets some rubber gloves from the laundry room. He can just make out the toe of one of his sneakers as it sticks out from the bottom of the pile of clothes; he just knows that the sneakers are ruined. They were just finally broken in the way he liked them and now they were just covered with… The thought of what is on his shoes makes Justin retch and he hurries from the bathroom before looking at the shoes and clothes makes him sick.
Lance is sprawled, unconscious, diagonally across the bed, pretty much in the same position he was in when Justin ran into the bathroom to shower. He’s kicked the blankets off his legs again though and Justin knows that he needs to cover Lance up again, so he moves towards the bed. He makes it around the foot of the bed before he smells it. Lance’s gotten sick, again, while Justin was in the shower. Justin looks at the floor at the side of the bed and realizes in horror, that once more, Lance has missed the wastebasket that Justin had left at Lance’s bedside for him to be sick in. Gagging, he steps back away from the bed, knowing that he needs to leave the room or be sick himself. That’s when he feels the carpet squish under his bare feet.
“How the hell did he get it over here?” Justin mumbles to himself, looking down at the mess he’s stumbled into. The one glance is enough, Justin’s out of the room, gagging as he dashes down the hall to the guest bathroom where he won’t be confronted with his own dirty clothing, shoes or the smell of either.
He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, his feet under the spigot, when he hears Lance weakly calling his name. He doesn’t want to go into the bedroom, he doesn’t. But he has to, no matter what else is happening, Lance is still the man he loves and right now he needs him.
Lance is struggling to get out of the bed when Justin comes in the room, Justin approaches the side of the bed where Lance hasn’t been sick and reaches out to Lance; guiding him back down on the bed. “Justin?” Lance calls out softly.
“I’m right here.” Justin tells him, stroking Lance’s bangs off of his forehead. Lance’s skin is still too warm; Justin wonders where he left the thermometer since the last time he took Lance’s temperature.
“I’m sick, don’t touch me, I’ll get you all icky.” Lance mumbles.
“Too late for that, Lance, you already did.”
Lance opens bleary eyes at him and blinks a few times while he tries to make Justin’s words make sense through his sick brain. Justin thinks he sees Lance achieve that moment of clarity just before Lance’s eyes open wide in shock and once more he tries to scramble free from the blankets.
sick pt. 1
It’s not until the third scrub down with the antibacterial body scrub that he realizes that once he’s out of the shower has cleaned up all the mess, that he’s just going to want another shower. He picks up the body scrub bottle and tries to see if there’s enough in it for another shower. Frowning, he thinks he might have to use something else next time.
Out of the shower, he wraps his body in a clean towel and makes a wide circle around his dirty clothes that he’d dropped on the floor before getting in the shower. He’ll come get those things last. After he gets some rubber gloves from the laundry room. He can just make out the toe of one of his sneakers as it sticks out from the bottom of the pile of clothes; he just knows that the sneakers are ruined. They were just finally broken in the way he liked them and now they were just covered with… The thought of what is on his shoes makes Justin retch and he hurries from the bathroom before looking at the shoes and clothes makes him sick.
Lance is sprawled, unconscious, diagonally across the bed, pretty much in the same position he was in when Justin ran into the bathroom to shower. He’s kicked the blankets off his legs again though and Justin knows that he needs to cover Lance up again, so he moves towards the bed. He makes it around the foot of the bed before he smells it. Lance’s gotten sick, again, while Justin was in the shower. Justin looks at the floor at the side of the bed and realizes in horror, that once more, Lance has missed the wastebasket that Justin had left at Lance’s bedside for him to be sick in. Gagging, he steps back away from the bed, knowing that he needs to leave the room or be sick himself. That’s when he feels the carpet squish under his bare feet.
“How the hell did he get it over here?” Justin mumbles to himself, looking down at the mess he’s stumbled into. The one glance is enough, Justin’s out of the room, gagging as he dashes down the hall to the guest bathroom where he won’t be confronted with his own dirty clothing, shoes or the smell of either.
He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, his feet under the spigot, when he hears Lance weakly calling his name. He doesn’t want to go into the bedroom, he doesn’t. But he has to, no matter what else is happening, Lance is still the man he loves and right now he needs him.
Lance is struggling to get out of the bed when Justin comes in the room, Justin approaches the side of the bed where Lance hasn’t been sick and reaches out to Lance; guiding him back down on the bed. “Justin?” Lance calls out softly.
“I’m right here.” Justin tells him, stroking Lance’s bangs off of his forehead. Lance’s skin is still too warm; Justin wonders where he left the thermometer since the last time he took Lance’s temperature.
“I’m sick, don’t touch me, I’ll get you all icky.” Lance mumbles.
“Too late for that, Lance, you already did.”
Lance opens bleary eyes at him and blinks a few times while he tries to make Justin’s words make sense through his sick brain. Justin thinks he sees Lance achieve that moment of clarity just before Lance’s eyes open wide in shock and once more he tries to scramble free from the blankets.
tbc...