THIS TIME, Tenner managed to fall—clean and shivering and wearing only briefs—into the guest bed. Ross was there too, making him drink some of Patrick’s tea. Tenner gulped it down because apparently Pat and Desi knew their home remedies, and the tea really did help him feel better. But when Ross would have made him drink more, Tenner paused.
“Have you had any?”
Ross grunted, and Tenner made him drink the last of it.
“Okay,” Tenner mumbled. “Get me another robe.”
Ross was already in bed next to him. “Where are you going?”
“To brew more tea. I want gallons of it. It shall be the only thing we drink. We shall both be brilliantly translucent vessels filled with whatever wonderful chamomile and ginger magic is infusing me right now.”
Ross whimpered, shivering in the bed. “Can you bring me some ibuprofen, Oh Translucent One?”
Tenner gave his own shudder. “Sure. I’ll take some of that myself.”
LATER, TENNER would claim not to remember much of that week—but he lied. He remembered every moment of it. He remembered the fever, the shakes, the torn-up throat, the ripped-up chest, and coughing until he was afraid he’d crack a rib.
He also remembered the hours of stupid sitcoms that made him and Ross giggle like children because God, anything was better than the misery of being sick.
He remembered calling Nina and bailing on dance and then calling Hanford and bailing on the game and then calling Nina and bailing on the weekend.
“Honey, are you okay?” Nina asked the second time he called. “That’s a long time to be sick!”
“Ross is here,” Tenner told her, too sick to care about propriety. “We got sick at the same time, so Pat kicked him over here so he and Des could take care of the kids.”
“Oh no. Poor guy. Stuck at some stranger’s house for a week. What were Pat and Desi thinking?”
Tenner opened his mouth to say, “They were thinking since we were sharing germs anyway, we might as well just share the joys of being gross,” but then Piper’s voice came on the phone. “Let me have it—Daddy! You’re sick? You can’t be sick! Are you all alone?”
“No, sweetpea. Ross is with me.”
“Oh, good. Ross won’t let anything bad happen to you.” And then, in an aside to Nina, she said, “Ross is really strong, Mommy. And he’s even taller than Daddy. He can take care of Daddy.”
“I take care of Ross too!” Tenner said, feeling defensive. “We take turns.”
“Good, Daddy. You tell Ross that’s fine. You can take care of him too. I said it was okay.”
Tenner’s head ached fiercely, and as he spoke, he started rooting for the ibuprofen in the kitchen cupboard. He’d made this phone call after Ross had drifted off to sleep in front of the television, and Tenner was feeling like they both needed to be in bed soon.
“I’ll tell him that, baby. Me and Ross will take care of each other and you said it was okay.”
“Good. I love you, Daddy. Mom says we can come by and visit tomorrow to make sure you’re not dead.”
Oh God, he must have missed that part of the conversation. He leaned his head weakly against the cabinets. “No, honey. Nina, no. Don’t come. You’ll both get the crud. No, no, no. You can’t touch us or breathe our air or touch anything we’ve touched. I’m going to have to burn the furniture. Nina, don’t. Save yourselves.”
“Have the two of you even eaten in the last week?” she asked, taking the phone again in exasperation.
“Patrick keeps leaving big pots of soup at the door, ringing the doorbell, and running away.” Like the coward he was, Tenner thought bitterly, even though that wasn’t fair. “We’ve started washing the pot and leaving it on the step when we’re through with it so Desi doesn’t run out of cookware.”
“Honey, I’m taking my Tamiflu, and I’ve got Piper on something for kids. We won’t lick your face or anything, but she really needs to see you’re okay.”
“Just not for long. I’m serious about you guys not wanting a piece of this, okay?”
“I understand. I need to make sure you and this virtual stranger aren’t dead.”
“He’s a friend,” Tenner mumbled, needing to sit in the worst way. “One of the best. More than a friend. A—” boyfriend.
“Sure, he is, honey. You’re brothers in germs. I get it. Now go to bed. I still have your key. I’ll just swing by tomorrow after work, okay? No germ swapping, I promise.”
“Sure. Whatever. Going to bed now.”
What could possibly go wrong with that?
Because he knew. He knew that one look at the two of them together, the way they touched, the way they bickered, and Nina would get what Tenner had been trying to tell her, and all of this good feeling between them would be gone.
But then, he thought fuzzily, he’d be left in the house with Ross, in sickness and in health. And God knew, they were dealing with the sickness at the moment, and they didn’t seem to hate each other. In fact, Tenner wanted nothing more than to climb back in bed and cough out his lungs next to the man he loved.
So, not a total loss.
“Bye, Ten. Feel better.”
“Bye, Nina. I’ll try.”
By the time Tenner got back to the couch, he felt like he’d been on safari for months.
“Whowuzat?” Ross mumbled, shoving his back into the corner of the couch and opening his arms. The day before, Tenner would have told him to fuck off, because they’d been sweating like lathered moose. Today, they were down to a midgrade fever—uncomfortable, exhausting, but a much better cuddle temperature. Tenner burrowed in and turned bleary eyes toward the TV.
“Nina. She’s gonna bring Piper by tomorrow. We should probably get dressed.” They’d managed two loads of laundry—sheets, underwear, and pajama bottoms—and were ready for a third.
“I’ll break out the sharp threads and dancing shoes,” Ross told him. “Tomorrow.”
“It’s a date.”
“Speaking of… seriously. What day is it?”
“Saturday.”
Ross grunted. “Fuck. Fuckity bugger me fuck.”
Tenner let out an amused breath. “Not anytime in this last week, no. Why do you ask?”
“That’s why I’m mad. I’m down to three weeks.”
Tenner grunted. “Fuck is inadequate,” he said, his heart aching. “I want my week back.” Ross would be gone two months—if he came back. Tenner hadn’t wanted to ask. How could he? He hadn’t even come out to Piper. God, how could he expect—
“I’ll come back,” Ross whispered.
“I should have my shit together by now,” Tenner muttered, broken. “I was going to be all functional, and my family was going to be happy and accepting, and my daughter was going to be so well adjusted, and—”
“Aw, baby. You are functional, and your daughter is perfect. Like scary perfect. No, seriously, I’ve been living with Pat’s kids for five weeks, and they’re pretty awesome, but they’re horrible to each other. I swear, Abner borrows his sisters’ yoga pants for dance so he can fart in them. They’re rotting out at the crotch. It’s terrifying.”