Chapter Text
Jess goes to sleep in Rory’s arms, hoping to wake up feeling completely better and ready to get up and go. He hates this stillness, this heaviness in his limbs, the fact that he hasn’t even seen the sky in three days. He wakes up to Rory’s alarm, every inch of him still aching and too hot but somehow still shivering anytime he moves at all. Her alarm’s been going off for a while now, which is a little odd but she is a pretty heavy sleeper. He summons some of the energy he hoped for but doesn’t really have and sits up and grabs her phone, silencing the alarm. Rory makes a little sound and rolls over towards him, blinking slowly.
“Mmmmmm, sorry,” she mumbles, “I was dreaming and the alarm sound was in my dream. I was at the diner and I was talking to my mom but Kirk kept trying to interrupt, but when he would open his mouth it was just the sound of my alarm. Weird.” She sits up, rubbing her face. “Sorry, I meant to turn it off quickly so I wouldn’t bother you.”
“‘S okay,” he hands her phone over and collapses back onto the pillows. “Why’d you set it for so early on a Saturday?”
“It’s set to go off every four hours,” she yawns, “Gotta keep up the Tylenol so your fever doesn’t spike again.”
“Rory, you don’t have to do all that.”
“Says the guy who stumbled to the kitchen and ate ice cream in his sleep.”
“Never gonna live that down, huh?” He coughs into the crook of his elbow.
“Nope,” she says, getting up and putting on a cardigan over her leggings and sweatshirt. “It got chilly overnight,” she says, opening the curtains and peering outside. “Everything’s all frosty.”
“Mmm,” Jess says, closing his eyes against the light from the window. He feels her weight on the edge of the bed next to him a couple of minutes later and her soft hand on his cheek. He turns his head to kiss her knuckles.
“Open up,” she says, putting the thermometer under his tongue. He wants to protest and complain and go sleep on the couch in his office by himself until he feels human again but it seems like a pretty shit way to act when Rory’s been barely sleeping while she tends to his every need.
“Hmm,” he can hear the frown in her voice. “Well, it’s no worse,” she says, forcefully chipper.
He slits his eyes open to look at her. Rumpled and sleepy, her hair in a loose ponytail, a pillow crease on her cheek and the crisp early light giving her this luminous glow. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I wanted to feel better today, so we could do something nice.”
“Something nice?” she says absently, logging his temperature in her phone and shaking the meds out of the bottles into one hand.
“It’s our anniversary,” he says, feeling a smile play on his lips.
Rory fumbles the Tylenol bottle and curses under her breath, crawling on the floor to pick up the spilled pills. “I can’t believe I forgot our anniversary, Jess! And that you remembered in…in…this condition. I’m a horrible wife!” She pops up from the floor, finally, handing him a small handful of pills to take.
He grabs her wrist as she turns to reach for the water, pulling her back down onto the edge of the bed. “You are the best wife. The best one. Okay?”
“Je-ess,” she protests. “I forgot our second anniversary.”
“You’ve got other stuff on your mind, Rory.” He has to pause for another coughing fit and then for some water, and then to swallow the pills since he’s already drinking the water. Finally, he continues, “You’ve literally spent this whole week showing me love non-stop. What better gift could I ask for?”
“Scoot,” she says, motioning for him to move over in the bed. She wraps herself around him, laying her head next to his on the pillow. “I love you so, so much,” she says quietly. “All I want is for you to feel better. You’ve had enough bad things in your life, I wish I could make it so nothing else could ever hurt you.”
“You do, Rory. I don’t deserve you, but I’m trying.”
“You know I hate it when you say that.”
“Sorry, I just feel like shit for not being able to take you out and show you how much I appreciate you.” Fuck . Another coughing fit rips through his romantic speech, leaving him a little breathless. “Also, I just feel like shit,” he laughs as Rory plants a kiss on his forehead.
“Okay, sickie, I’m going to run and grab some coffee and a bagel. Do you want a bagel?”
“Nah,” he pulls the blankets closer, missing her warmth already. “Maybe an omelet? Bread’s too sharp.”
“Too sharp?” she laughs.
“You heard me,” he rolls over, burying his face in the pillows.
When he wakes a little later it’s to the heavenly feeling of Rory’s soft hand on his cheek and he thinks if he had to feel this awful for the rest of his life it would be okay as long as he could still feel her touch. He opens his eyes and there she is, beautiful in her gray Yale sweatshirt, smiling at him.
“You’re back,” he says hoarsely, his voice nearly non-existent.
“With breakfast,” she smiles at him.
“Mmm,” he says. He’s actually a little hungry for the first time in days and he sits up with a groan, his eyes widening when he sees she’s put roses on both bedside tables, their dress, on either side of the TV and on the tray at the foot of the bed with their breakfast. The TV is queued up to the DVD menu of Final Destination 2 and there are tea lights flickering on their bedside tables.
“Rory, what-?”
“I just wanted something…romantic.”
“Final Destination 2 is romantic?”
“It is to me,” she says, grinning. “Remember, we saw it in the theater together, and we sat in the back row and we were the only people there…” She waggles her eyebrows at him suggestively.
He laughs hoarsely. “I remember you, I just forgot the movie.” He gestures for her to come sit next to him and she gleefully crawls over him and pulls the tray over their laps before settling into his side. He leans his head against hers for a moment. “Happy anniversary, Rory. Hopefully next time it’ll be in health.”
She picks up her coffee from the tray, “I’ll drink to that.”
They eat their brunch and then watch the movie cuddled close together until they both fall asleep.
Jess wakes up to late afternoon light and a strange sound. He rolls over to see Rory, normally the world’s cutest sleeper, mouth open, jaw slack, snoring loudly, a sheen of sweat on her brow. He frowns and strokes the sweat damp baby hairs back from her forehead. He can't tell if she has a fever, but by the sound of her breathing he's certainly managed to give her the flu. She startles awake and then groans, squeezing her eyes shut, bringing the heel of her hand to her brow.
“Oh no…” she says.
“Got you too, huh?” he asks.
She nods mutely, bringing a hand to her throat and grimacing as she swallows experimentally.
He hands over the thermometer and she pouts. “What’s good for the goose…” he says to her as he puts it under her tongue. When it beeps he takes it out. “Yep, you’ve got yourself a fever, missy. One hundred point nine.”
She sits up, “Pass the Tylenol,” she says with a groan, “And check your fever while you’re at it.” He rolls his eyes but complies.
When the thermometer beeps again she takes it out, “Hey, matching fevers,” she says.
“How fucking romantic,” he says, taking the bottle of pills from her as she coughs into her elbow.
She flicks the TV over to streaming mode and pulls up the season of Buffy she’s been watching. “Netflix and Chill?” she asks, fluffing the pillows up behind them and holding out her arms. He leans back and she wraps herself around him, coughing into his sweatshirt as he strokes her hair.
She falls asleep again a few minutes into the episode and he half watches the scooby gang and half watches her sleep in his arms while he absently strokes her hair with one hand. He feels awful, and awful about getting her sick, but also more content than he’s ever been in his entire life.
His phone vibrates on the bedside table a little later and he eases Rory onto the pillows and gets up on shaky legs, pressing the button to answer Luke’s call but not actually greeting him until he’s safely in the kitchen where he won’t wake Rory.
“Hey Luke,” he says, his voice weak and raspy.
“Jesus, you sound like the fucking cryptkeeper.”
“Nice to talk to you too.”
“How’s my boy?” Luke asks affectionately.
“On the mend,” he says, filling the kettle with water. “Your girl on the other hand is down for the count.”
“Oh man, you got Rory sick? On your anniversary?”
Jess laughs as he puts the kettle on the stove, quickly dissolving into a coughing fit.
“Christ,” Luke says, “Happy anniversary I guess. I’d ask if you’re doing anything special, but…”
“Well, it is our tradition to spend the whole day in bed, just not usually like this.”
“Gross," Luke says, "I won’t keep you, just…take care, okay? Both of you.”
“Okay Luke, thanks for calling.” Jess hangs up the phone and folds his arms on the counter, laying his head on them.
“Jess?’ He hears from the kitchen doorway.
“M’fine,” he mumbles, “Just resting.” He stands slowly and Rory crosses to him, tucking herself under one of his arms and winding her own around his waist.
“You shouldn’t be up,” she says.
“I’m just making us a cup of tea,” he says, “I promise I’ll come right back.”
She looks up at him, he strokes one of her pink flushed cheeks and kisses her forehead. “Go back to bed,” he tells her, “I’ll be right back. Just let me take care of you a little, please .”
She nods and gives him a soft kiss on his chapped lips that makes his dick twitch in appreciation. Someone’s feeling better , he laughs to himself as he watches her walk away.
By the time he finishes making the tea and brings the steaming mugs back to bed his legs are jelly and he’s trembling, but at least he did something . He hands her the warm chamomile and gives her another kiss. “At least we can do this again now,” he says, and kisses her again.
She smiles, “I don’t know why we stopped, I was bound to catch it anyway.”
He shrugs, “Beats me.”