|Chicken Soup For The Ill
Author: Cathleen18 PM
Nick makes Greg some soup. NickGreg.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance - Nick S. & Greg S. - Words: 568 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 27 - Follows: 2 - Published: 06-29-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2460896
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chicken Soup For The Ill
Summary: Nick makes Greg some soup. NickGreg.
A.N.: For Jenna, who asked. And the rest at the Fort for keeping me sane-ish.
"G, honey, you're not dying," Nick replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, "Now, sit up so you can take these tablets. I didn't go to the 24-hour pharmacy at three-am for you not to take them."
Greg groaned as he sat up, almost knocking the water and tablet packet out of Nick's hand when he fumbled for them. He continued groaning as he snuggled under the blanket again. "Hmmm…" he moaned as he drifted off to sleep again.
"My poor baby," Nick muttered, leaving the room quietly and leaving the door partly open so he could hear Greg from the living room.
Nick heard the groaning before he saw Greg enter the kitchen. He stifled a chuckle when he saw that Greg had the blanket draped over his head and wrapped tight around him. But he couldn't hide the smile.
"S'not funny," Greg said, shuffling to sit at the kitchen table where he proceeded to drop his head onto the surface.
"I didn't say anything!" Nick shrugged his arms before turning back to the stove.
"You don't have to say anything to look amused, Nick."
Nick shook his head and continued to stir the contents of the saucepan.
"Whacha making?" Greg came to stand behind Nick and rested his cheek on his back. Nick smiled happily before replying.
"Chicken soup for one. But you'll only get it if you go back to bed." Nick turned the heat down on the stove and turned around. He put his hands on Greg's shoulders and steered him back to the bedroom. He kissed the back of Greg's head as Greg climbs on all-fours onto the bed before collapsing on his side and curling up into a ball.
"I'm really dying Nick," he mumbled, "So just before I go, I love you."
"I love you too," Nick said as he went to go back to the kitchen, "And you're not dying."
One week later…
"I think I'm dying," the familiar saying echoed.
"You're not dying," was the familiar reply, "I'm going to make you some soup."
"Well if I'm not dying now, I will be when you cook," Nick said, voice rough.
"Just because you're sick doesn't mean to say I won't hit you." Greg kissed the top of his head. "And you brought this on yourself. I told you it was a bad idea to kiss me constantly when I was ill."
"Yeah, why didn't I listen to the wise Greg Sanders? I'm going to sleep," Nick said, before closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.
Greg turned off the lamp and covered Nick up. He slipped out of the room quietly and went to the phone, dialling a number he knew by heart. "Hey Cath. Nick's ill and won't eat my cooking. Can you make us some soup?"