Title: Taking Care of Colfer
Word count: 1,402
Summary: Chris' gruelling schedule leads to him getting sick. Darren insists on taking care of him, even though he'll probably burn the toast. RPF.
Warnings/Spoilers: IT'S SO FUCKING FLUFFY I CAN'T EVEN. (Make sure you have something for the sweetness. It may cause tooth decay...If you're diabetic, it might not be a good thing to read.)
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Glee, FOX, Ryan Murphy or anything else related to the Glee universe. Nor do I know Chris or Darren and so I hope to God they never see this...
The great thing, Darren had decided, about working on a TV show was the ability to have takes. Sure, he was a theatre boy first and foremost and he missed live performing and the hilarity from ad-libbing lines or scenes when cues were missed or directions were skipped. But he knew that with the show being recorded, learning his lines wasn't the same huge pressure as when he would be on stage. If he forgot a line, there was a 'CUT', scripts were thrust into his hands, a quick glance and he was good to go again. Far less nerve-wracking.
He parked his car and clambered out, slipping on his customary pink wayfarers over his eyes and pulling his bag across the centre console of the car. It was a wonderful autumn day, warm sun and cool breeze, that kind of made him wish he worked outside more rather than moving around sets that were missing a wall and blinded him with lights.
But today wasn't an ordinary day. He had only just ducked his head as he crossed the threshold when Ashley appeared.
"Hey, you're not needed today. Didn't you get the message from Ryan?" she said.
"No?" He dug out his cell and realised the battery must have died. He was terrible with remembering to plug the damn thing in. Especially after long days of filming that left him totally drained.
"Oh, well, Chris is sick and since Kurt and Blaine are pretty much always together, there's no scenes for you to do until he's better again," she explained.
"Great," he muttered. He was even on time for a seven thirty start and now he wasn't even needed! And he was so not a morning person. "How's he doing?"
Ashley shrugged. "No idea. He called me this morning and sounded like the plague had erupted overnight."
"Is someone taking care of him?"
"I doubt it. His family is in Clovis and we had a choir room scene today but that's been delayed and now we're doing any and all scenes that don't include him so Amber, Lea and I all have to be here." An assistant shouted for Mark and he waved at Darren as he moved across the corridor that was lined with cords and wires.
"I'll go," Darren said.
"Take care of him. Since you girls can't. I don't feel like sitting around here all day when it's so nice out and if I'm not needed then I may as well go nurse him back to health. Feed him Vitamin C and orange juice," he replied.
"He doesn't really like orange juice," Ashley teased.
"Too bad. The boy needs his vitamin C!"
"Have fun then!" she called, turning away and heading back towards the set.
Darren rubbed a hand across his face tiredly. Well, at least if Chris was sick he could make sure Chris slept and then pass out on a couch or something. He needed a day off. And he needed to charge his cell.
He arrived at Chris' an hour later, a book, his cell charger, and a few groceries that he deemed sufficiently "For A Sick Person" worthy like vitamin C tablets and chicken soup, bread, saltine crackers and water.
And then he realised Chris was probably tucked up in his bed, asleep, and wouldn't be able to let him in.
But he remembered one time Chris had told him about hiding a key to the back door outside, and it was easy enough to get through the railing fence, so he slipped down the side of Chris' hideous blue house and put down the groceries to search around for the rock Chris had told him the key was under.
"Bingo," he muttered, pushing it into the door and turning the latch. He grabbed the bags and headed inside, closing the door behind him and navigating his way to the kitchen around the piles of paper Chris had strewn around the room. He assumed they were drafts or scripts but he didn't look too closely.
Which, in hindsight, he should have done, because he slipped on a loose sheet and flopped onto his ass and it kind of hurt.
"Ow," he said, standing and rubbing his abused behind.
He had just started to unpack the groceries on the benchtop in Chris' kitchen when he got the fright of his life and thought he might be having a heart attack.
"Darren?" a groggy Chris shrieked, holding a baseball bat above his head.
"Chris! Whoa, drop the bat please, I come in peace!" he held up his hands in the Spock salute.
Chris squinted and rubbed his eyes. "This isn't a dream? You're actually in my kitchen?"
"No, not a dream. Ash said you were sick. I thought I'd take care of you but I fell on my ass," Darren said, scratching the back of his neck.
"Why is that not unusual?" Chris teased, leaning the bat against the wall. "I still don't understand how you managed to stay on all those tables and chairs when we filmed at the Dalton set."
Darren smirked. "Ryan told me they bolted them down so they didn't wobble."
"Ahh," Chris said before sneezing.
"Bless you," Darren said automatically.
"So what the hell are you doing here?"
"I told you. Taking care of you. Here," he thrust a water and the bottle of Vitamin C tablets. "Chew a tablet. Swallow some water. I'll make you some plain toast."
"You won't burn it?" Chris said, prising open the bottle of chewable pills.
"Enough with the jokes about my shitty cooking!" Darren groaned, slipping two slices into the toaster for each of them and searching Chris' fridge for something to put on them. "Jesus Chris, you need to go shopping sometime."
"Yeah, yeah," Chris mumbled, pressing his fevered cheek to the cool bench top.
"You can't live on take-out forever," Darren reminded him.
Darren rolled his eyes and located a cream cheese spread he figured a sick stomach could handle and waited for the bread to pop from the toaster.
"So why are you here exactly?" Chris asked again while he gnawed on a piece of toast.
"Can't film Kurt and Blaine scenes if Kurt can't be on-set," Darren said, pouring himself a coffee. "Ashley told me I wasn't wanted. I had nothing else to do and the others are filming so I thought I'd keep you company."
"I'm so lucky," Chris said sarcastically, sipping his water.
"I see how it is," Darren teased. "I'll take my good will and go home and…compose."
"That was lame," Chris acknowledged. "Composing? Really?"
Darren shrugged. "Probably not. I've slept too much to have the urge too write. I'd probably end up sitting on the couch for about five minutes before going utterly stir-crazy."
"You need to learn to sit still."
"Because Mr. I-won-a-Golden-Globe-on-my-first-nomination-and-waiting-for-my-first-Emmy-on-my-second-nomination-and-excuse-me-and-my-movie-and-books-and-Disney-show knows how to sit still?"
"I can't believe you got that all out," Chris smirked.
"Me either," Darren laughed, clearing away the empty plates.
"So what are you going to do instead now that you've invaded my place?" Chris said, placing his face back on the cold bench.
"Movies?" Darren suggested.
"Why not. I'll only end up falling asleep anyway," Chris yawned, shuffling into the living room and leaving Darren to find a movie to put into the DVD player.
Darren bounced onto the couch beside Chris and tugged the younger boy down to rest his head on Darren's thigh. He sped through the extra credits and-
"Aladdin? Really?" Chris asked incredulously.
"You're going to make me hate you for the fact I can't sing along," Chris mumbled.
"You're going to fall asleep anyway," Darren reminded him.
And it was true. Chris tried to keep his eyes open but Darren's soft, deep singing and the care Chris felt as Darren rubbed his hand over Chris' back caused him to drop off and sleep.
Darren smiled and turned the volume of the movie lower. "Success," he grinned. He could so totallytake care of sick people. And not burn toast.
A/N: I was sick a couple of weeks ago. And this happened in response. It took me a while to tie it up but so much fucking fluff. Guh.