evening - (29 Parts)

[LeapYearKisses]

So happy right now.

[jezebel215]

Part 20

Sara wasn’t sure what woke her--the sun through the blinds or the sound of Ben coughing. Glancing at her watch she saw it was only 10:30 am -- she’d gotten about 3 hours of sleep. Still groggy Sara got up to go check on Ben.

Ben was sitting up in bed. His coughs were deep and raspy and he seemed unable to catch his breath. Sara got a glass of cool water and sat next to him on the bed, rubbing slow circles across his back and mumbling something along the lines of “shhh. it’s ok.”

It took a moment but Ben caught his breath and Sara could get the full picture. He didn’t look better. He looked pretty damn bad, actually (in her non-medical opinion). His skin was dry and pale, the dark stain of pink on his cheeks the only color. Sara tested his forehead and it seemed hotter than before, even after the Nyquil should have been working.

“You sound like crud” Sara said, breaking the silence. Ben half laughed then checked himself, unwrapping a cough drop and taking slow, measured breaths.

“Would you believe me if I said I felt fantastic?” He finally said.

“Maybe. You’d need to pass some tests first.”

Ben looked over, eye brow raised.

“Well, people who feel fantastic can go to sleep whenever they want to and will often choose to spend all day in bed. They like to drink juice and tea and just to top off how fantastic they feel, some add a little ibuprofen in for kicks.”

Ben just looked at her.

“Seriously, how do you feel? Your cough sounds terrible and it’s 10:30, we could go to the health center if you want -- get you checked out, make sure it’s not something bacterial...” Sara trailed off. Ben was shaking his head.

“No health center. It’s just a cold.”

Sara gave him the eyebrow.

“Maybe a bad cold. Give me 24 hours, if I don’t feel better by tomorrow I’ll think about going to the health center.”

“Not think about. Go.”

Ben nodded.

Sara decided that was good for now. She wasn’t Ben’s mom. She wasn’t really Ben’s .... anything. And yet here she was, sweetly ensconced in his apartment, feeling more at home than in her own dorm room.

“So what do you want to do?” Ben started Sara out of her reverie. She couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Do? What do you want to do? Can you even get out of bed?”

“We could watch another movie. That way I wouldn’t have to get out of bed.” Sara turned and saw a nice flat screen TV in perfect position. Ben smiled.

“I’m choosing the movie this time. something a little less.... violent.”

Sara had stopped speaking, her eyes glued on the far side of the bed, blankets still untouched. Ben had only slept on half the bed and there was clearly space for her next to him.

“Fine. As long as it’s not a chick flick.”Or a mob movie. Or something historical. Or..”

Ben interrupted. “My bed, my choice” but he was smiling. “I only have about 4 movies actually -- I was thinking “The Shawshank Redemption.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Ben started to get out of bed when Sara stopped him saying “I can do it.”

“No, really. I’m not an invalid. Besides, this is a complicated DVD player. It has 4 buttons. It takes an expert to operate.”

“Ok Mr. Expert. I’ll make something to eat then--is there anything that sounds good to you?”

Ben didn’t feel nauseous but he didn’t like the idea of swallowing anything down his raw throat.

“Maybe tea?”

...

Tea. Good old tea. Sara loved tea. It was homey and smelled good and was something she could cook. Well, if you counted boiling water as cooking. She’d count it. Looking through Ben’s cupboards Sara was impressed by his decent supply of food. He didn’t like on chinese takeout and pizza. Sara found fresh squeezed orange juice (or did she bring that yesterday? the days were getting blurry to her) and Steel Cut Oats.

Although she didn’t have experience with non-instant oatmeal Sara decided to chance it. She had seen Ben wince when he swallowed and thought something smooth would be good, just to get a little food in his belly.

Feed a cold.

Starve a fever.

This was a conundrum. Sara decided that perhaps a cold + fever = eat lightly?

Reading the cooking instructions Sara nearly backed out.

Boil 4 cups of water.

Add oats.

Cook 4-6 minutes, stirring lightly.

Allow to simmer on low for a half hour.

This was turning out to be rather complicated. Sara almost put the container back in the cupboard before she found her trusty friend--microwavable instructions. Cooking time reduced to 6 minutes total. That was just her speed

...

In his room Ben had set up the movie and was trying to clean up. He threw out his own used tissues and while Sara wasn’t looking, sneaked an extra dose of Nyquil. He grimaced as he swallowed and looked around for the throat lozenges Sara had brought yesterday.

Sara.

For a moment Ben stopped analyzing his bodily aches and pains and stopped to think about the fact that a girl he’d known for two days was making him breakfast and practically waiting on him hand and foot. All of a sudden he was embarrassed, feeling like he had trapped her here today--calling her like that, now suggesting a long movie, he hadn’t asked what she wanted to do. He hadn’t asked if she had a life she needed to get back to. He decided to give her an out. This was a cold. He could tough it out. Better than that -- he should tough it out.

...

Sara came back into the bedroom expecting to see Ben tucked in bed. Instead, inexplicably, he was standing there topless, PJs on the floor, jeans on, about to pull on a T-shirt. Sara looked down at the makeshift breakfast tray with tea, orange juice and her hard-won steel cut oats. He had paused in getting dressed, a familiar look of irritation on his face. Except that both of his arms were in his long sleeve t-shirt and it looked like he couldn’t figure out what to do with the rest of him.

“Heh.. eh..” Ben turned and tucked his head into his shoulder, sneezing heavily.

“AHP-Gnkxt. EKSCH'Gisch.”

It sounded messy and Sara wished she could discretely hand him a tissue without either one of them acknowledging it. Ben, however, had yet to notice Sara’s entrance. The sneezes had torn through his throat, leaving a raw burn in their place. He finished pulling on his t-shirt and had grabbed a handful of tissues before he noticed Sara.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I ... um. I started feeling a lot better and realized it’s silly to spend another whole day in be-- eh ish'Gkxt. Bed.” He finished quickly and shook his head lightly to clear it. “And I’m sure you have stuff you need to do. I don’t expect you to play nursemaid all weekend.”

Ben sat down after his speech, hoping Sara didn’t notice that his legs were shaking by the time he was sitting and the exertion of getting dressed had left pinpoints of sweat along his hairline.

Sara had stopped listening after he said “play nursemaid.” Now she felt like an idiot. She liked taking care of Ben (liked it more than she should, to be honest, but could pretend she only liked it a little...). She had spent the ten minutes in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil fantasizing about lying next to Ben in bed, watching one of her favorite movies, waiting for his head to get heavy and for him to be sleeping next to her.....

She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. And she felt stupid. There was one thing Sara really didn’t like and that was being made to feel like an idiot. Which is how she was starting to feel.

Ben could see her expression change. She looked hurt and then, angry? Why was she angry? He was setting her free, off to her exciting Sunday. He’d suffer alone in his man-cave and emerge on Monday morning somehow hale and hearty and then he’d sweep her off his feet.

“Oh. You feel better?” Sara’s voice was level but there was an air of disbelief. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah,” Ben chimed in eagerly. “So much better. I think I just really needed that nap and the Nyquil. You’re a life saver. But I don’t want to take up your whole day, I’m good now.”

Sara was silently steaming. And hurt. She couldn’t decide on her primary emotion -- anger, hurt or embarrassment. She settled on angry cause that was the only one that didn’t make her cry in public.

“Oh, if you’re all better now, I guess I can go. Would you like me to clean up on my way out?” Sara’s voice was icily polite.

“No, you don’t have to clean.” Ben said. “I mean...” He trailed off. This wasn’t going to way it was supposed to. He was setting her free. She was acting like he was being an asshole.

“I mean, I’m sure you have better things to do than take care of me all day. I don’t want to be a burden.” The last sentence petered out, the word burden barely audible.

Sara took a second look at Ben, trying to put aside her hurt feelings and indignation. He didn’t look all better -- the clothes and jeans had fooled her for a moment but now, sitting on his bed, she wasn’t so sure. Looking closer Sara caught the occasional full body shiver and noticed how tightly he sat on the bed--like every muscle in his body hurt.

She decided to be the brave one. It was her new theme and personal mantra.

“If anyone’s going to be the idiot, let it be me.”

It was her own form of bravery. She’d let her hurt feelings get in the way too many times in her past and she had learned the hard way that not everyone thinks before they speak, or thinks things through a thousand times after they hear them... In other words, not everyone was as neurotic as she was. So she’d put herself out there.

Pulling back all the guts she’d used this morning to walk over to his apartment Sara went and sat down next to Ben. She put the food on the bedside table and turned to face him.

“If you’re really feeling better, I’ll go. I don’t want to get in your way or be a pest. I know some people just like their space when they don’t feel well and I don’t want to smother you.”

Ben’s face was hard to read but Sara kept going.

“Say the word and I’m off to do homework, laundry and other exciting Sunday activities. But if you’re kicking me out from some sense of chivalry gone amok, just don’t.”

Oooh. That was more direct than she had intended.

“I mean, you’re not a burden. I thought we covered that this morning. If I wanted to leave, I’d leave. Now if you’re done with this macho bullshit why don’t you put back on your sweats and get into bed before you pass out.”

Sara finished her speech and looked up, holding her breath. Ben looked over at her sheepishly.

“Macho bullshit? I thought i looked pretty good.”

All the angry sharp feelings in Sara’s chest turned into bubbles, leaving her insides a swirling mess.

"Good like garbage" she mumbled.

“You really don’t mind staying here? Even though I can’t do anything and you might get sick too” he added as an afterthought.

Sara looked at him closely then placed her hand over her heart as if to start the pledge of allegiance:

“ I, Sara Bradley, have nowhere that I would rather be right now than in bed next to you watching the Shawshank Redemption and eating breakfast.”

Ben smiled. “Nowhere than next to me in bed?”

“Now you’re pushing it germ-boy. You keep up this choir boy act and I’m all yours but if I get one whiff of the sketch factor” she pointed to the door. “I'm outta here. I mean, have I even known you 48 hours?”

Ben thought about it.

“No. But, of those 48 we’ve spent about 20 of them together. Why don’t you pretend we’ve gone out to lunch 5 times and had 3 dinner dates. The last one went till midnight....” he winked at her.

“Good lord. You’re incorrigible. But I do believe your math is without logical error. We have moved past strangers, skipped casual acquaintances and moved all the way to” she stopped, looking over cautiously “to friends?”

“To friends” Ben answered. “of course, nursemaid wasn’t on your list of get-to-know-you phases.”

Sara laughed and threw a box of tissues at Ben. He ducked. “You’re dangerous!”

“And you’re shaking. So now: PJ’s, breakfast and bed. No arguments.”

Ben saluted.

[LeapYearKisses]

They are SO CUTE.

[Ciuty80]

*giggles* nice little fight

keep going love it

[thesneezingbeauty]

This is so adorable! Sara needs to get sick too!

[missannathema]

Just keeps getting better and better!

[semperfi0609]

This was great to begin with, and is continueing to be even more amazing!!!

Edited March 12, 2010 by semperfi0609

[onlyhim]

Loving this SO much!!! You keep topping yourself with each new chapter!

What the...? I am not male. =(

Edited March 13, 2010 by onlyhim

[jezebel215]

oh wait, did i mention the exams were DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE! (for the next 8 wks)

Part 21

As Ben shuffled toward the closet to change back into his pajamas Sara was left sitting on the bed, a tray of food next to her. The oatmeal was starting to cool and she though about microwaving it to keep it fresh (then worried about the weird skin that forms on top of microwaved dairy products) and decided to leave things as they were.

Ben came out from behind his closet doors, his trim hips tucked into sweatpants and a similarly worn sweatshirt gracing every curve of his shoulders. He looked sick and sheepish.

“Eat.” Sara commanded, not because she thought it was particularly important but because it gave her a distraction point. Ben sat down next to her on the bed and she handed him the bowl of steel cut oats. She could see his hesitance as he spooned a small spoonful toward his mouth and was rewarded when he swallowed, a look of faint surprise replacing the the grimace from before. He ate the rest of the steel oats quickly and polished off the tea with a similar pace.

“So did you set up the movie?” Sara asked. Ben had pretty much finished his meal and was looking pretty wiped out. She was sure his attempted miraculous recovery had taken something out of him but she wasn’t going to harp on it.

“Yeah, it’s in the DVD player. I have the clicker. Just switch the input to AV2 and we’re good.”


Sara did as told, looking to Ben for confirmation of every keystroke. It wasn’t rocket science but she had begun to realize that having input was important to Ben. So she made a point to give it to him. Maybe it would head off any more ill-equipped mutinies in the future.

“Are you comfortable?” Ben’s voice was more a croak than a baritone, breaking over the word ‘comfortable’ and never seeming to find its pitch. But, awkward or not, the truth was, Sara wasn’t comfortable. She was wearing her cute jeans but she’d rather spend the afternoon lounging in sweatpants.

“Do you have a pair of PJ bottoms I could borrow?” Sara asked and as Ben started to rise from the couch she held up her hand to halt him.

“Just point.”

Ben pointed at the bottom drawer of his dresser. Sara opened it, hoping for a single pair of thread-worn sweats and instead found a bounty of plaid sleep bottoms, fleece pants and a surplus of sweats. Without thinking she uncoupled her belt and shimmied out of her jeans, shaking them loose at the end of her feet and laying them carefully over the arms of a near by chair to let the hems dry. She had chosen a pair of navy blue fleece bottoms and as she slid into them she could only image the ecstatic feeling of pleasure that had played across her features. The pants were soooo soft but not creepy-worn out, more like fancy department store fleece and softer than her Walmart sweats had ever been against her skin.

Ben was breathless for his own reasons. Sure, he was in bed, tucked up to the chin in blankets, fighting to make each breath a breath and not a cough or sneeze. But the ease at which Sara had shucked her trousers, and that moment of gleaming pale skin--his own breath caught in an entirely separate manner. And then, of course, his body betrayed him. Trying to be stoic and subtle while he watched her dress Ben had ignored the tickling in his nose, the slow play of pins and prickles up the sensitive passages, ignored them until there was no chance he could avert or stifle the coming sneeze. He grabbed a handful of tissues from next to the bed and pressed his face into them.

“uhf-Chuff”. HH-Hft.”

Sara looked up, tying the fleece pants and snuggling back into her oversized sweatshirt.

“Bless You!” she exclaimed but Ben’s face was locked in a painful exchange between irritation and dread. His eyebrows hovered, seeming almost to flutter with the curling of his upper lip, a warped butterfly of sorts. Sara smiled, recognizing the signs and knowing, finally, that Ben did not.

It couldn’t go on forever. Ben’s lids stood at half mast, his brows gathering at the crease of his forehead, the his lower jaw dropping to allow short, panting breaths. He continued to fight it, wedded it seemed to the idea of achieving a small victory in the face of overwhelming defeat.

Of course, as with many well intending gestures, it failed. Completely. Ben’s eyes were closed and Sara, snug in her PJ’s and folding up her extra clothes, could watch the whole sneeze play across Ben’s face.

It didn’t start, per se. The irritation, the tickle, it was always there, always scrunching his nose into strange positions, tempting him to rub it, to alleviate the irritation. He would rub, scrunch, even bury his face in his hands. This disruption of sensory input might gain him a moment or two of respite but inevitably his irritated nasal passages had the last say. But there was a tipping point, a moment when the irritation became the beginning of the sneeze but instead of coaxing it out, Ben fought it at every turn. He rubbed his nose more studiously, turned away so she couldn’t see him rubbing at his sinuses, all for naught. Once sown, the sneeze would only grow and Sara had only to wait for Ben’s acquiescence.

Slowly Ben gave up, reaching again for his box of tissues. His nasal passages felt like they were on fire, the irritation unending, the cool comfort of congestion a mere memory. Pressing his face into the tissues he let loose as best he could.

“WRUH'Fisschue. Ihf-Hapt'choo”.

He paused and looked up. Sara caught his eyes and started to bless him but he shook his head suddenly and buried his face again in the pile of tissues.


“hck'Gishoo. eish'Gkxt. nx'Ihff. hush'Aaessch.”

After a spectacular quad, Ben seemed satisfied and commenced with blowing his nose. Sara, on the other hand, felt fires and spines and prickles runing up and down her inner most sensitive places, but held on to her facade of simple care-taking.

“Movie?” she asked?

Ben nodded, not quite trusting his voice to speak.

[Ciuty80]

thank god you are back!

i definitly need more now

poor ben he is such a ciuty

[LeapYearKisses]

Loved the last scene, with Ben's losing battle. This is such an awesome story!

So glad you're back.

[jezebel215]

Part 22

Having agreed, Sara raised the upper comforter, giving her slim body a chance to wriggle down around Ben’s shaking legs. To her it seemed the covering was stifling but she decided to ‘make it work’ as best she could.

Sara reached over and switched off the lamp. She moved the box of tissues loser to Ben as she withdrew her arm, not wanting him to notice but, based on the glaze rising over his eyes, she thought he might not be noticing much of anything anymore.

The moving opened with a barrage of violent, semi-coherent scenes (Sara’s least favorite part of the movie). It took about 20 minutes to get Andy into Shawshank--the part in the movie that seemed to Sara he had hit bottom and was almost ready to start moving forward.

Next to her Ben shifted under the blankets. He was so cold but didn’t want to shiver, to alert Sara as to how he was feeling. He could tell the blanket he had offered in a moment of ill-reasoned helpfulness was way too warm for her. She had slowly extricated herself from the blanket and, to compound his embarrassment, had removed her sweatshirt. Ben thought she looked like she was in a sauna -- skin dewey with the flush of heat on her cheeks, the slight rim of sweat along her hairline, the general sense of health and vigor she exuded. He didn’t want to know what he looked like.

Some movies are best watched in silence and this was one of them. The growth of Andy Dufresne as a prisoner and the birth in his friendship with ‘Red,‘ Morgan Freeman who narrated the whole movie. As it progressed you could hear the sense of wistful fondness in his voice and it brought something tender to the movie without giving away anything of what was to come.

Within about 45 minutes Ben was asleep again. Sara was cooling down and pulled a light fleece blanket over her legs. Ben had fallen over and, without waking him, tipped him the other way so that instead of leaning over the arm of the couch he lay with his head in her lap. He made a couple of grumbles as she manipulated him but never woke.

As he lay with his head in her lap Sara found herself tracing the faint curls of Ben’s hair (noticing nervously that they were damp to the touch though his forehead was hot and dry). She following the lines of his part, gently grazing his scalp with her nails as she combed through his hair. Ben didn’t wake but did seem to make some non-verbal noises of pleasure as he adjusted himself to lie more comfortably in her lap.

Sara could feel the weight of his head but also the contours of his shoulders, broad and well muscled under his t-shirt. The cotton had been washed until it was nearly sheer and through the fabric sara found herself gently outlining the muscles of his arms and shoulders, rubbing slow, soft circles from his hair down his neck, working her way through his bunched up shoulders and being pleased when he uncurled just a bit.

The room was dark despite the bright day outside. Sara had drawn the curtains tightly and it seemed to her that the sky, the wisp she could see where the curtains met, had gone from a vibrant cerulean to a more contemplative periwinkle, the blue where blue and grey meet, more often than not signaling the arrival of rain or other damp weather.

Sara found herself drawn back into the movie. She watched, the brush of her fingers along Ben’s skin pulling her into a light doze. Action on the screen pulled her out of her stupor. It was both one of her favorite scenes even though it pained her to watch it. Morgan Freeman’s voice traveled over the image of an old man leaving the prison.

Man's been here fifty years. This

place is all he knows. In here,

he's an important man, an educated

man. A librarian. Out there, he's

nothing but a used-up old con with

arthritis in both hands. Couldn't

even get a library card if he

applied. You see what I'm saying?

Sara watched Brooks leave the prison, tears streaming down his face and she found her eyes filling with tears as well. His notes to his friends voice over the scenes as he tried to find his place in the outside world only hasted the salty drops as they spilled down her face

Dear Fellas. I can't believe how

fast things move on the outside.

I saw an automobile once when I was

young. Now they're everywhere.

The world went and got itself in a

big damn hurry.

Sara was crying silently by this point, the pain visceral, the sense of loss complete.

I have trouble sleeping at night.

The bed is too big. I have bad

dreams, like I'm falling. I wake

up scared. Sometimes it takes me a

while to remember where I am.

Sometimes after work I go to the

park and feed the birds. I keep

thinking Jake might show up and say

hello, but he never does. I hope

wherever he is, he's doing okay and

making new friends.

I don't like it here. I'm tired of

being afraid all the time. I've

decided not to stay.

By the time Brooks was talking about Jake tears were streaming down Sara’s face. She tried to make no noise but the occasional hitching breath betrayed her. Ben woke up, startled to see Sara crying, but said nothing. He watched her as she watched the movie, trembling as Brooks packed his suitcase, carved his name on the wall and hung himself. Maybe it touched something inside her, the feeling of not belonging, of not knowing how to belong. The loss of his world and the pain of an old, lonely man, waiting for his pet crow to come back.

Sara saw herself in him, the void of being surrounded by people and horribly alone. She could feel her lips trembling, not wanting to make noise but wanting to experience the pain of this moment fully. It reminded her, more than happy endings and explosions, of what it meant to be alone and strangely, what it meant to be alive.

Sara liked being alone. She liked being independent. She didn’t like to ask for help and secretly believed that asking a favor was an unwelcome intrusion into someone else’s life, even her friends. Brooks scared her because she saw herself there, alone.

The scene passed and as the action moved back to the prison Sara could feel her despair dissipate. She had known this scene was coming and both anticipated and dreaded it. Now she could concentrate on Andy. Andy made her feel brave. Given similar circumstances (though not exactly the same circumstances, she had no desire to spend two decades in jail) she hoped she would have the strength to find her purpose and stick to it, even if the rewards didn’t show up in the next two business days. That she would be able to look inward for strength, to carry herself through the uncertainly that plagued her.

Ben had been watching Sara and as she took a trembling breath he reached up, cupping her face gently and wiping away the tears.

“It’s only a movie,” he croaked out. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Sara laughed, the slightly giddy laugh that runs perilously close to a sob.

“No, it’s just me. I always cry at this part.”

Ben’s hand hadn’t left her face. He wiped the tears from the other side of her face and then pushed himself to a near seating position, facing her. He reached out, this time tentative, and traced the line of her jaw from temple to chin, his touch so soft she could feel little but the heat streaming from his fingers. She was sure his fever was up but didn’t want to bring attention to it right then.

“It’s only a movie,” Ben said then wished he could choke back his words at Sara’s expression. It was derisive, rather a surprised incredulity that made him realize he had missed the point big time.

“Or not” He offered, trying to backtrack and finding his mind increasingly muddled. He had been awake long enough that he was beginning to realize how uncomfortable he still was and unconsciously adjusted his position, trying to make his muscles stop aching.

Sara could see the change in Ben’s expression, the quick grimace he tried to hide as he moved, the look of absolute exhaustion as he closed his eyes.

“No, you’re right. It is only a movie. I just-” she paused, suddenly hesitant. Ben opened his eyes to look at her. “I just, see myself in Brooks.” Here she turned away and half to Ben, half to the corner of the room spoke barely audibly.

“I’ve been that lonely.”

They sat in quiet for a minute. Sara was worried about Ben. His nap had been good but even with medicine in his system his fever hadn’t broken--the hot dry skin of his forehead betrayed that. His voice as he had awoken was rougher than ever, his ravaged throat cracking on vowels before disappearing entirely for moments. He coughed, trying to clear his throat.

Sara was rising from the couch it seemed to ben, with superhuman speed and agility. She was probably, he acknowledged, moving within the normal limits of human ambulation. He was just starting to feel so confused, time and vision wobbled and he found himself able to do little else than follow Sara’s eyes and then her departing figure.

Ben collapsed back on the couch, closing his eyes. He could hear the kettle being turned on and wondered how Sara could know what he want when he didn’t. Tea would be just perfect right now.

Ben picked up a tissue and attempted to blow his nose. Not much happened except that he irritated his nasal mucosa more than it had been a moment ago. His attempt to quell what he sensed was an inevitable sneezing fit seemed more to have hastened it. Ben could hear the kettle whistling in the other room, the splash of hot water into mugs. Sara carried two mugs into the room, set one down next to her side of the couch and held the other out expectantly to Ben.

Ben wanted to take the mug. Really, really wanted to. But he also didn’t want to scald his more many bits with near boiling tea. Sickness was forcing him to choose new battles to fight and he found himself increasing gracious at losing them. He held up a hand to Sara, one finger raised to signal he needed just a moment. He turned away and grabbed a handful of tissues. He turned away from her but this view meant Sara could watch his whole torso expand with his hitching breaths. It took a moment but finally Sara could see him inhale deeply, the contour of his upper body visible through the thin shirt.

“HAHK'Chff. hck'Gishoo. eh..heh...WRUH'Fisschue.”

He didn’t intend to bend down but the force of his sneezes left Ben crumpled over, gripping the tissues with a sense of dread at what they contained. He tried to blow his nose only to find it completely stuffed and settled instead for wiping what he could from nose, coaxing what he could form his nasal passages.

He sat, turning to Sara to reach out for the tea and try some conversation but as he opening his mouth to talk he found in a spasm of wet, productive coughs. He turned away, grabbing more tissues, trying to catch his breath. He could tell when she touched him, could feel her hand through his shirt and it felt like a brand on his skin. Slow, deliberate circles and the calming instructions,

“Shhhh. You’re ok. Just take a breath. Good. Slowly in, slowly out. Don’t force it. Let your lungs tell you what they can do.”

Ben stopping coughing and though his breathing was ragged for a few minutes more, he felt ready to try to drink his tea again.

He sat up and reached for the tea, expecting Sara to pass it over and for their movie date to continue. While she did pass him the tea Ben noticed she had not merely paused the movie but stopped it and muted the background. He looked to her, slightly confused.

“I think you might do well if you really laid down for a little while. Ben wanted to argue, wanted to raise a salient objection but feared that opening his mouth would produce little more than a broken squeak. So he nodded.

Sara busied herself, gathering their mugs and Ben’s favorite blanket. He was already in pajamas and so it took little effort for Sara to lead him back to his bedroom. Ben noticed through his fever-fog that his bed was made, the covered turned down to let him slide in easily, the pillows propped up to support him, a fresh glass of water on the bedside table.

He turned toward Sara, mouth open to try to say something but then closed it, realizing he had not a clue what to say. He sat down on the bed but his landing was a bit rough and he wobbled, struggling to find his balance from a seated position. Though he didn’t generally pay much attention to his health, Ben had a suspicion that that was a bad sign.

Sara noticed but gave no sign of recognition. Instead she went to the bathroom and came back with a cold cloth. Ben had started to slide into bed but Sara stopped him.

“Indulge me. You had your last nyquil 6 hours ago, right?”


Ben started to nod than felt too guilty. “Four hours ago.”

Sara frowned. “Four?? I didn’t think you were due for--”

Ben interrupted. “I thought it might speed things up a bit.”

Though this would have been a great segue way into a lecture on proper dosages, Sara instead simply nodded and looked at the clock. “Ok, you can have more Nyquil in about three hours. Until then how about you lie down and try to get some rest.”

Rest. Lie down. The words sounded like heaven but right as he started to crawl under the covers Ben caught himself and stopped.

“What are you going to do?” He asked. Sara looked at him closely. His face was pale and deep smudges scraped under his eyes. His cheeks had taken on a rather unnatural fuchsia tinge. His eyelids were drooping and the his voice sounded like it had been scraped over sharp stones. He wasn’t going to ask her to say she realized. But, in keeping with her new bravery plan she decided to put herself out there again.

“Well, I’m kind of tired too. I could go lie down on the couch if you want me to...” she paused, letting the words hang in the air, “but your bed looks a lot more comfortable. And besides, you’re barely taking up a third of it.” At this point Sara’s nervousness had crept in and she had started to ramble. “And if you need anything you can just reach out and shake me till I wake up and get it for you.”

Oops. Sara caught herself. The last sentence hadn’t gone quite like she had intended. It didn’t matter though. Ben had stopped listening after the words “but your bed looks a lot more comfortable.”

“My bed. Definitely my bed.” He stopped, knowing his words were not right but again, too dazed to correct them. “I mean, ust sleep here. you’ll be more comfortable.”

Sara smiled shyly, not that Ben noticed. He was already turning off the lamp next to the bed and sliding down under the covers. Sara took his lead and walked to the other side of the bed, lifted up the comforter and climbed in.

[PollenFairy]

such sexy sneezes XD all i wanna do know is rope ben's hand behind his back and tickle his nose with a feather and have him sneeze on me.

[Ciuty80]

wonderfull!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

well written part

i love it when she started to cry about the scene in the movie

because she compared it with her situation (like i do sometimes in my life )

[jezebel215]

Part 23

Well, almost slid in. Sara had one leg on the bed and under the blanket before she realized how hot she would be.

“Hey--not to be creepy and steal all your clothes but do you have shorts or a big T-shirt I can sleep in?”

Ben looked over, puzzled.

“I just am really hot”

At that raised an eyebrow, prompting Sara to blush and not helping her heat situation any.

“I mean, I get really hot. You bed has a really heavy blanket and there’s no fan...” she trailed off. “If it’s too much trouble I can just go back out to the couch, I was fine there earlier.”

“NO” Ben answered, quickly and possibly too loudly. “I mean, I have plenty of T-shirts you can sleep in. Just look through the basket in the closet--they’re all clean.”

Sara walked over and knelt to dig through Ben’s t-shirt basket. It was a pretty standard collection of white T-shirts but toward the bottom Sara found something perfect--it looked old and soft with a faded logo (some sports team?) but it was an XXXL. Sara didn’t know why Ben would have an XXXL t-shirt but it looked just like a nightgown. She grabbed it.

Sara stepped into the bathroom for a minute to change. Quickly shedding her clothes she hesitated at her bra. Given her druthers she would sleep bra-less but at the same time, being bra-less in someone else’s bed felt just a little too intimate to her. She’d keep her bra on. Sara walked out of the bathroom, turning the light off behind her.

In bed Ben had already started to feel woozy. He watched Sara walk around but it seemed to him she was floating and he really enjoyed the soft light that seemed to ooze out of her. He blinked and the light went away for a moment, then came back. Shiny. Ben’s eyes closed and stayed closed.

Sara realized that in her haste to get in Ben’s bed before she chickened out she hadn’t prepared any of her supplies. A quick glance in the bedroom assured her that Ben wouldn’t notice her absence any time soon so she went to the kitchen to get him a glass of cool water. She also got a bowl and put a handful of cough drops in it. She put the glass and bowl on his bedside table aside of box of tissues and a tin of Vick’s vapor rub.

Vick’s vapor rub. Sara felt almost naughty when she was purchasing it. Just the thought of rubbing it across Ben’s skin, feeling it liquefy and slide across his muscles. It was hard to give a massage to the front of the body and Sara often thought a vick’s vapor rub back massage might be really lovely... but she reined in her thoughts. She was brave enough to put the tin out though. Maybe Ben would think he put it there. He seemed to be in a rather suggestible state.

Lastly Sara returned to the bathroom, finding a small wash cloth folded under the sink. She ran cool water under it from the sink, rung it out then wet it down just enough that it was set but not dripping. She went back to the bedroom. Ben was lying face up, his arms and legs like dead weights exactly where they had been when she left. She didn’t want to startle him and it was good that he was sleeping but she thought the cold cloth would be good.

Sara perched on the edge of the bed and touched Ben’s shoulder lightly. His eyes opened but before he could get too confused she said, “I brought this for your head. I think it might make you feel better.”

Ben nodded and closed his eyes again. Taking that as a yes Sara lay the cloth across Ben’s forehead with a degree of reverence suitable to the task. This was one of her favorite images--the independent boy struck down, now buried under a pile of blankets with the cold cloth across his head. Sara sighed. Ben didn’t wake up.

Surveying the room one last time and liking what she saw Sara did a quick walk through of the apartment, turning off all the lights and pulling the blinds. By the time she reached the bedroom the apartment wasn’t totally dark but it was enough that she thought she could sleep with that much light.

Ben didn’t make much noise as she lowered herself carefully into bed. It really was a big bed and Ben was practically all the way at the left, having wrapped himself completely with the comforter. Sara had brought a lighter blanket from the closet and laid that over herself. She had enough room to stretch out her arms and legs and the rub of soft cotton over her skin was so soothing... it didn’t take her long to fall asleep.

---

Sara woke up with something hot and sweaty trying to nuzzle its way into her. Instinctively pulling away she found herself in an awkward position. In her sleep she had moved toward the center of the ben and Ben had too, perhaps seeking warmth. She didn’t think he was really awake, just cold and having found something warm in his bed, Sara thought his bumbling approach was logical.

Looking over it was easy to see why he was cold. Ben had managed to fully destroy his bed. His quilt, previously wrapping him in a Ben-burrito, had slid down to his hips and partially onto the floor, leaving his chest and feet bare. To compound matters Sara could see that he had sweated through his shirt again. She slipped out of bed and grabbed a clean t-shirt from his basket.

Like pulling off a bandaid, some things are better to just do it and get it over with. Moving quickly Sara pulled the comforter off Ben. This woke him up enough for him to look annoyed but to follow her directions and put on a clean, dry shirt. While he did this Sara made the bed sleep-able again. She pulled up the sheets that were bunched at the bottom and then laid the comforter out squarely atop the bed. She flipped Ben’s pillow so when he put his head down it would be cool and dry, she couldn’t do much about his damp curls.

Checking the time Sara saw there were still at least 2 hours before she could give Ben more Nyquil. While asleep Ben’s breathing had been regular but congested, giving the occasional cough but nothing to keep her awake. While she finished her room preparations he tried to say something, but decided to wait for his mind to clear up a bit first.

When Sara saw his eyes were still open she smiled at him.

“You steal the covers.”

“I do-” Ben realized he did but then remembered something.

“I do apologize, I just thought you were too hot for blankets.”

Sara smiled. “I’m just teasing you know. How do you feel?”

Ben looked around, his eyes lighting on the clock.

“No, it’s not time for more advil” Sara said, answering Ben’s question as he opened his mouth to speak. It’s good he didn’t really have to say anything because all that came out was a raspy squeak.

Ben cleared his throat and tried again.

No luck- no voice. On the other hand, he had irritated his throat enough to start coughing but before it could get out of hand Sara was handing him cool water and a cough drop.

“It’s a good thing your psychic” Ben croaked. Sara looked puzzled then laughed.

“It’s a good thing you’re so predictable” she said, teasing.

Ben laughed which turned into more coughing. To make matters worse, the longer he stayed awake the more aware he became of prickles in his nose--the congestion that had settled while he slept seemed to be breaking loose and threatening an exit.

Ben sniffed experimentally. Whether an experiment is a success or a failure really depends on your perspective. Ben had hoped nothing would happen. In which case, his experiment failed. Sara had seen the expressions of irritation on Ben’s face, could hear him them becoming more wet.

Ben’s eyebrows dipped and he closed his eyes, his expression a cross between resignation and defeat. He opened them just long enough to pull a handfull of tissues out of the box next to his bed. He unfolded them slowly as the sneeze built, his breath hitching.

“Heh...eh..” nothing. For a moment he sat there, mostly upright, his hands holding a well folded set of tissues, his eyes closed and mouth hanging slightly open. Then the sneeze was upon him and Ben bent over, sneezing into the tissues he cupped around his mouth and nose.

“NK'Guschue. hush-Aaessch. EKSCH'Gischt.”

Without lifting his head he blew his nose into the tissues, folded them into a sanitary square and wiped his nose. He looked around but found the trashcan right night to his bed. He threw out the tissues and grabbed a couple more, blowing his nose a few more times until he was finished--whatever that meant.”

“Bless you” Sara said. Ben looked at her with watery eyes.

“Thags.” He shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, a quick grimace playing across his pale face.

“Head hurt?” Sara asked softly. Ben nodded.

Sara got the wash cloth and went back to the bathroom to rewet it. She came back and pushed Ben gently down into a sleeping position before laying the cloth across his forehead. He sighed

“Feels good” he mumbled. “How do you know how to do all this?”

Sara didn’t know how to answer that question the way a normal person would. Good thing she didn’t have too.

Ben was asleep again. Sara hadn’t checked his forehead but could tell that although his fever may have broken while he slept, it had begun to creep upwards again.

Sara yawned. This nurse-maid business was more tiring than she had expected it to be. “I mean, seriously, how much work is it to watch someone sleep” Sara asked herself. “A lot more than I thought it would be.”

Sara walked to the other side of the bed. She was slightly cool in only the long t-shirt and decided she might be able to stand the comforter for a little while. Without hesitation she climbed into her side of the bed. As she stretched out her arm bumped Ben’s head as her foot kicked him.

Graceful: Fail.

It didn’t matter. Ben didn’t wake up and Sara arranged herselt so she was mostly uncovered by the quilt. She laced her feet in with Ben’s, for once enjoying this head surging from even his most distal body parts.

Ben made a mumbling noise. Sara couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure but as she tried to pull her feet away she found them trapped by Ben’s purposefully closed legs.

“I got you” he said. His eyes were still closed but there was a hint of a smile curling one side of his mouth.

“I’m only using you for your value as a foot heater” Sara replied. Ben smiled and Sara could feel the vise grip on her legs give way.

“You sleep funny” Ben said. “You’re all stretched out and weird looking.”

“Weird looking?” Sara asked. “How would you know, you’re lying there with your eyes closed. You sleep funny but you don’t see me making fun of you now, do I?”

“It’s cause I”m sick. You said you had to be nice to me while I was sick.” Ben’s voice was still a cross between sandpaper and a squawk but he was nice and lucid. Too lucid. This discussion coupled with their proximity was almost too much for Sara.

“Let’s call it even. Even if you’re not, I’m still tired. So figure out how to be comfortable and then be quiet about it.” Sara’s voice was sharp but with a lilt to it that conveyed her lack of actual anger.

“You’re so much work to keep around.” Ben mumbled. Sara opened her mouth to protest but before she could Ben rolled over to face her.

“I”m just teasing. You are my own Florence Nightingale. I wish I could bottle you. Or not, cause that sounded kind of creepy.”

Sara had reached out, her hand resting on Ben’s shoulder. As he spoke she could feel him shiver.

“Are you still cold?” Sara asked.

“No” Ben answered.

“Whatever. I only asked as a courtesy. If you’re not, don’t worry about it but if you are, my body heat is up for grabs.” Sara blushed as she said this. For her this was serious flirting.

“Really?” Ben’s asked, sounding suddenly eager.

“Really.”

Sara had turned away to sleep on her side, facing the door. She felt Ben slide in behind her and was immediately enveloped in a much too warm cocoon. But then she felt Ben’s arm snake over her waist to fall nonchalantly on her side, holding her too him. Suddenly a little too warm didn’t seem bad at all.

They lay quietly, Sara feeling every movement of Ben’s body against her as he breathed so it was probably she who realized Ben was going to sneeze. He seemed to be deliciously ignorant of how his own body functioned. 


Sara could feel the quick inhale before Ben tucked his nose toward his shoulder. This wasn’t really effective of course and though he stifled, Sara could feel a rush of warm air across the back of her neck.

“AHP-Gnkxt. eish'Gkxt.

“Bless you.”

Ben sniffled.

“Sorry.” he said.

“Shut up and sleep sick boy. get the tissues if you need them” Sara answered although she was pretty sure there was a robot inside of her that was keeping up normal conversation. Inside she felt stretched so tight she might run around and go crazy if Ben kept doing that.

“Ok mom.” Ben asked.

“You sleep like this with your mom?” Sara asked with a tone of false innocence.

“Go to sleep smart girl” Ben answered and Sara smiled.

It was quiet, the sound of Sara’s breathing nearly obscured by Ben’s raspy inhalations. The hand draped across her waist seemed to be finding its way to her stomach and resting there, his fingers splayed out softly across her like a safety belt, keeping her buckled in to him.

“This is good,” Sara thought as she fell asleep.

[obsessed]

Aw! I love how cute their relationship is. All that hesistation, teasing, very amusing to read. :DD

[Weirdo Girl]

Awww...

Too cute!

[tma]

Somehow I missed this prior to, so I got to eat all these parts up at once. They are a Very cute, and Very fun couple of characters. Really nice!

[LeapYearKisses]

Awwww! I love this part! Their banter is sooo adorable...

And, because I missed it, the previous part was awesome, too. I love how you wrote Sara's reaction to the movie. It was very moving.

[Kiwifruit]

Oh...my...this is just...*speechless*. You are writing what is probably my favourite fantasy Oh, wow...why did I not read this sooner!? You have a simply amazing grasp of the characters and their personalities. You make them so realistic too - all the little worries and complex emotion and everything. I LOVE the humour too - so much of this story is very, very witty! The characters are so fun and cute and full of OMGSQUEEness...so much fantastic in one story! I really, really enjoyed reading this. I may just have to read this again...and again...

You also started this out with one of my favourite settings for both fetishy and non-fetishy daydreams. And it only got better! I can't even say how much I like this properly, all I know is that it would take a whole lot of :wub:s and :boom:s and :drool:s Thanks so much for sharing this with us. I'm eagerly awaiting the next bit!!

Edited April 15, 2010 by WolfMotaki

[jezebel215]

I'm in a rough stretch of school and the exams don't seem to stop. But Wolfmotaki make me miss writing this story. so thank-you, for reminding me.

Part 24

When Sara woke again it was past nooon, the sun still high in the sky but the clocks showed a crossover in the non-Zulu standard. At this point, between sleeping and sponging and becoming giddy like a sparrow inside, Sarah couldn’t remember if Ben was due his Nyquil. Enough with the drug dosage police. He was young, with (presumably) strong kidneys and liver. She’d save the proper dosage lecture for another day.

While they slept Ben had remained tucked around her, though as he fell deeply asleep his conscious control waned and his hand slid to lay limp beside Sara under the covers. She lifted his hand and the blanket and slide out of bed.

3:30 pm. Sara had begun to lose track of time and decided a properly documented list of medications and times received was in order. She couldn’t remember when Ben had said he took his extra Nyquil so she decided to wait until he woke up to give him another dose.

Sara was nosy. She didn’t lie about it--she even admitted it freely. Finding herself bored she would happily eavesdrop, even read a stranger’s email while they typed next to her in the train. It was a puzzle, figuring out how people went together, what was happening at that moment. As a child Sara could read in the car (or train or ...) but as she grew up she found herself more disturbed by the inconsistent visual and vestibular information arriving at her brain. Having never been carsick (because the time in Greece when she was wicked hung over and the road seemed unable to go straight...) Sara decided not to chance it. She always brought a book to read, would even open it, but found herself instead staring at the passing rooftops, the sea of asphalt. It wasn’t a problem if she was driving -- the road and her eyes and vestibular system aligned so that she felt one with the car -- but if she was a passenger ... she hadn’t hazarded a long-distance backseat ride in a long time. There are things you simply shouldn’t test and rather choose to treat empirically (from the preventive perspective).

That said, Sara slid out frome the covers and resolved firmly to go back out to the couch and find mindless television or educational PBS programming to watch. Maybe peruse Ben’s book selection ... not too much of an intrusion?

Wandering back to the living room Sara wrapped herself in the light fleece blanket she ahd taken from the bed. It was mid-Sunday afternoon -- argueably her least favorite time of the week -- yet in this new house with a new person, Sara realized it didn’t matter what day it was. What were her classes tomorrow: Organic Chem II, genetics, modern literature and modern poetry composition. Hmmmm. Well, she didn’t have to get to her english classes till 1:00pm and no one really noticed attendance in the basic science classes.

Suddenly Sara found herself amused. She was worrying about tomorrow’s classes -- nearly 24 hours away -- already making plans for attendance and absence, for copying someone else’s notes... Maybe she needed a real break from her plan, not just a hike on Friday evening but something to reinvigorate her whole curriculum.

Whatever. Not the point now. Sara looked through Ben’s shelf of books in the living room. Finding “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” she picked it up, intrigued to find it was the British edition. She had read it before, loved the story (perhaps even deep down believed she had untapped magic within her....) so she picked it up and snuggled into the couch to fill her time till Ben awoke.

----

Sara’s back had grown stiff and Harry hadn’t even made it to Hogwart’s yet when she heart audible non-sleep noises coming from the bed room. Dropping the book she walked calmly (but with haste) back to the bedroom.

Ben lay stretched across the bed, his hands grasping the edges of the comforter. It seemed like he remembered nothing of his current situation and instead sat up and attemped earnestly to breath through his nose.

Fail.

Maybe worse than fail. As Ben finished waking up it all flowed back on him -- the hike, the flu, all the symptoms he’d been lying about and trying to conceal -- he sighed and laid back against the pillows.

“You awake?”

Ben opened his eyes at the sound of Sara’s voice. Strange, it didn’t take him any time to place the voice, he knew instead immediately who it was.

“I’m awake.” Ben tried to clear his throat and ended up coughing. “Mostly awake at least.”

“How do you feel?” Sara asked tentatively, knowing that the last time they had this discussion Ben had experienced a short-lasting miracle recovery.

Instead of BS-ing her this time Ben just looked over at her. Sara was leaning in the doorway to his room, her legs crossed in front of her as her back hit the doorframe, arms crossed across her chest. A defensive posture if he had ever seen one. His memory was a little fuzzy but he didn’t remember being belligerent. Of course, if his general state of awareness was any guide, he shouldn’t call on his memories being worth anything.

“Not great” Ben answered. He could see Sara relax as if she had already won one battle and was far more prepared for the next.

“Head?” Sara asked.

“Hurts. Hot.” Ben answered.

“Hot or cold?” Sara asked.

Ben thought a moment on this one.

“Both.”

“Muscles?”

“Ache.”

“Throat?”

Ben swallowed experimentally.

“Sore.”

“Any other bodily pains or discomforts?” Sara asked, having ticked off her primary list of ailments.”

“No.” Ben had sat up in bed, and he found this new position appeared to release a faucet in his sinuses.

“I’b feelig a lot bedder,” he offered up, paused to hear himself and sniffed deeply, trying to relieve his congestion. His voice betrayed him.

“I mean, other than thad stuff,” he trailed off. “Add do worse.”

Ben meant it. He really did. He wanted to feel better, so much so that he would ignore the growing ache in his muscles and sense of spatial disorientation. Sara was his tie, keeping him grounded in the real world. If he were alone, Ben supposed, he’d have just passed out until he got better. Maybe drank some water. Maybe felt a lot worse. It was strange, having someone take care of him. Strange and nice to feel that someone appreciated his discomfort. It made him want to downplay it and in doing so he felt himself rising above his true feelings and beginning to believe his half-truths.

Sara wasn’t conned quite so easily. Bringing back the thermometer she held it up to Ben expectantly. His expression of dismay lasted only a moment and he dutifully accepted it.

“102.4,” Sara said. She hoped her voice was even but she was worried. She was a sophomore chemistry major and even with a perhaps unnatural fascination with the healing arts, 48 hours seemed too long for Ben to be running a fever, especially with NSAIDs on board.

“Thad’s better, right?” Ben asked. Honestly, Sara didn’t remember his last temp and, thinking of the placebo effect, decided to nod.

“I thought so,” Ben said. “I’b feelig a lod bedder.”

Again. Ben lied to Sara and to himself. Only his body, however, called him out on it. As he spoke he felt something loosen in his sinuses--only the hint of movement but his nose was so sensitive it was more than enough.

Sara had been watching him closely and saw the flash of irritation. Ben seemed to either not care or not notice it. He sniffed and kept speaking.

“Lods bedder.”

Good lord. It was situational irony in situ (at least Sara thought). Situational irony. Dramatic irony... they all blended together when what you were really learning was sterioisomers and fused electron orbitals...

So she let it slide. She smiled at Ben and he smiled back, a titch of vigor rising in his cheeks, what Sara could imagine would have been a mischievous smile rising in the corner of his mouth.

“Lots?” Sara asked, her eyebrow raised in her attempt at a harsh glare.

“Lods. Wanna finish the movie?”

“Can I get something to eat first?” Sara asked. She wasn’t sick and this strange day of awakenings had left her confused and rather hungry.

Ben (of course) was abashed at his failure as a host and tried to climb out of bed calling “Ok--What do you want me to make you?


Sara sighed. This wasn’t getting any easier. Maybe first dates (slash random prolongued first interactions) should come with a dossier--something to give you at least a clue as to how the othe person thought.

After Ben’s earlier attempt to declare himself hale and hearty Sara didn’t want to laugh at his offer. Instead she chose a compromise.

“I’d love tea,” She said. “The passion fruit kind if you have it.”

Passion fruit. oops. she also liked peppermint, chamomile, orange blossum.... she liked almost everything but she chose passion fruit? seriously Freudian.

Ben’s face was still waxen with illness but he seemed to smirk as she asked for passionfruit tea--a sign perhaps that his higher motor and procesing skills were available for interaction.

“Ok. You make tea. I don’t really care what kind it is--just fruity and caffiene free.” She slid from the comforter saying “If it’s ok, I’m going to make some kind of soup or something.”

Sara didn’t know what time it was. A check of the hall clock confirmed it to be near 4:20 pm. No wonder she was hungry. She had been up since nearly 6am and was not on the invalid diet.

Ben’s refrigerator continued to surprise her. Behind a cauliflower she found a container of ‘just whites’ egg product and wedged in the door a pack of low-fat Kraft singles. Sara knew from experience this was a good combo.

A generous spalsh of milk, an attempt at whisking and once the proteins of the egg mix started to denature and solidify -- the addition of the cheese. Maybe salt and pepper to taste. Or even parmesan cheese. This was the extent of Sara’s culinary expertise.

Looking back into the bedroom Sara found a sense of relief in knowing Ben couldn’t taste a leather shoe from a hunk of wood. She scrambled her egg-cheese mixture and, noticing Ben hadn’t gotten out of bed, set the tea water on to boil.

Ben lay half propped up in his bed. His arms and legs ached and his head wanted to sink back into the pillow. But NO! he had a job to do. Something about tea, he couldn’t remember anything else. Stumbling into the kitchen Sara caught her breath at the hot mess Ben had become--curls askew, sticking up n places, the faint indent of the pillow on his cheeck and most of all, the persistent pallor and red cheekbones. Looking closely she could see his nose becoming red adn irritated as well.

Advice is all well and good but at the same time, when you think you are a grown-up and you meet another grown-up, they don’t expect for you to flip the scales of responsibility. So Sara ignored Ben’s wavering steps to the kitchen, the wrinkles of his pillow case creased upon his cheeks. Sometimes it’s about finding a balance, about not taking the wheel and instead heading for unknown seas.

Ben was pouring the hot water into the mugs, tea bags in place. Sara looked at him questioningly.

‘I made us both chamomille,” he offered, not quite meeting her eyes until he had finished speaking.

“Perfect.” Sara exclaimed and Ben exhaled. Calm, calm and sleeping. That was all his body wanted. He busied himself with the task of tea--carefully draining the bags and, at Sara’s request, adding a titch of honey and milk to her tea. By then Ben didn’t care what he was drinking. He was still hoping for tea followed by a return to bed with Sara. He coud still feel her warm body carved against him, her hips fitting against his, the slope of her torso yielding beneath his arms. He sighed.

“You ok?” Sara asked. She had been watching Ben closely, the rapid progression of microexpressions yielding nothing but confusion to her untrained eye.

“Ok. Just tired. Silly, isn’t it? I mean, it’s like four’o’clock and I’m ready to go back to bed. You must be jumping out of your pants by now.” Ben paused, adjusted. “I mean, really eager to get back to your studying or whatever, you know...” he trailed off.

Sara took her mug from Ben, the teabag floating in a swatch of milk and Splenda. She pushed it down with her fork and took her time swirling it before she lifted it to drink.

Ben had done no better. No milk and only a single package of sugar, he blew anxiously on his tea, hoping it would cool enough to lessen the scald as he swallowed it.

They were silent for a while, each blowing on and sipping their mugs of tea. Ben finally raised his eyes and spoke, “This wasn’t really how I hoped this weekend would go.”

That was apparently as brave as he was going to be and he quickly busied himself with swirling his tea bag around the tines of his fork.

“No?” Sara asked, not innocently but rather playing the ignorance gamble -- people are often willing to believe you are stupider than you are.

“No. Id’s nod.” Ben stopped and stiffed. “I thoud I was goig too eh... going to ehh...he... NK'Guschue.” He had bent his head into his elbow an emerged, again bleary eyed and deliously pathetic.

Sara (for once in her life) held her tongue.

“I was goig to be all bedder and we were goig to do sobthing romandtic.” Ben trailed off, looking away in what was embarrassment but quickly progressed to the need to sneeze.

Sara loved these moments with an entirely innapropriate appreciation. Ben, it seemed, had no idea he was about to sneeze and it was left to Sara to watch the interplay of his cheek and lip muscles, the crinkle in his eye brows and medial forehead.

By this time his eyes were often closed and Sara could see his last gasp of air -- eyes closed, arms or hands at the ready -- before submitting to the overwhelming irritation in his nostrils.

“WRUH'Fisschue.”

Ben paused, his eyes at half mast, his breathing unevern. Finally he looked upwards, eyes closed beofre taking in a deep breath of air, burying his face in his elbow and letting loose with all the sneezes he had contained while speaking through an their polite interaction.

“NHX-Gusch. eish'Gkxt. hh-Eksht. Heht-Gxt.”

Ben stopped. He didn’t sound finished by he did sound exhausted. Sara handed him a handful of tissues and he sunk his nose into them, releasing unstifled the final sneezes of his cascade.

"WRUH'Fisschue. NK'Guschue. EKSCH'Gisch.”

As usual Ben attempted to squelch his last sneeze again his sleeve and elbow. He emerged from the onslaught looking exhausted, his eyes tearing, the faint hint of moisture at the precipice of his nostrils.

Sara handed him a bunch of tissues and Ben took them eagerly, turning away from her and making quick use of the fancy vitamin-E infused Puff’s Plus Sara had brought. It was worth it though to have Ben turn back to her, a look of faint satisfaction on his face.

“These tissues are so soft. They’re like....” he trailed off, lacking an adjective.

“They’re like the gossamer wings on angels in heaven,” Sara tossed out saracastically. “Now do you want to keep watching the movie or go back to sleep?”

Ben hesitated

“Are you sure it’s not Nyquil time?” He asked, the plaintive tone in his voice either earnest desperation or a well honed hoax.

“Almost. Get tucked in and I’ll bring you some pills.

Ben stumbled back to bed, Sara surveying every uneven step. Though tottering he made it back to the bed unscathed and before she let him under the blankets he surveyed him quickly -- cheeks hot and dry, skin pale, breathing with normal rate and effort, bar the occasional wheeze or couch.

“Go to sleep, Sick Boy,” Sara said, smiling, as she pulled the comforter up over Ben. Reading his puzzled look she said, “Don’t worry, we’re gonna finish the movie.”

Sara had stripped down to a tank and boxers but still slid under the comforter. Ben’s arm reached out, feeling her torso and pulling her close.

“Smmgt grlll,” he mumbled.

“Hmm?” Sara asked.

“Smart girl. making all my cold parts warm and my warm parts...” he broke off. “Keeping me warm I mean.”

Sara smiled. If Ben was anywhere near as intoxicated by their physical proximity as she was more than pleased.

[Kiwifruit]

Yay, update! And I'm an inspiration, awesome Very cute, as always!

The British edition of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone; wouldn't that be Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone?

Edited April 20, 2010 by WolfMotaki

[Ciuty80]

thanks so much for the update

hope to read more in the future

[jezebel215]

Yay, update! And I'm an inspiration, awesome Very cute, as always!

The British edition of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone; wouldn't that be Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone?

yes, yes it should.

[obsessed]

Ooh, an update! This was adorable as always, I'm loving the way their relationship is a bit iffy when they hesistate. :]