Sick And At Home

By Dr. Pepper 14

Summary: Slash. Cody doesn't feel good. I can fix that.

"Why do I feel funny?" he asks as soon as he comes back to reality, the words slurring together.

"Probably because you're all drugged up," I inform him, pulling the covers up under his chin.

"Oh," he says and nods. "…Why am I drugged up?"

"To counteract the pain." I press a kiss against his palm. "Sort of like when your appendix got taken out, but different."

His face frowns, nose wrinkled in confusion. "If my appendix got taken out," he wonders. "Then where did it go?"

"It's okay," I soothe him, patting the top of his head like a child. "It ran off with your left kidney and they eloped."

"Oh, that's sad," he says, face sobering up.

"And why is that?" I question him, trying to keep his hands away from his face when they try to scratch.

"It's sad because my right kidney must be really lonely," he tells me. "The poor guy."

"Oh no, don't worry about him," I reassure him. "He has your liver to keep him company."

"That's good," he agrees, shifting in the bed a little so there's room for me beside him. "I'd be worried otherwise."

"Because you have such a good heart," I tell him, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

His nose wrinkles again as I kiss it. "It hasn't failed me yet."

I climb onto the bed beside him, nudging his arm so I can slip underneath it, curling up into his side. I throw a leg over his just for the heck of it.

"I'm itchy…" he whines, squirming in the bed, his knee jabbing into my hip.

"You poor baby," I say as I hold his face still so I can place kisses on every red dot I can find. This is hard to do, though, seeing as there are so many of them.

"You missed a spot," he says shyly, pointing to a place on his cheek, somewhere close to his mouth.

"By golly, you're right," I amend, kissing where he pointed and leaving a few brief ones on his chapped lips, the only place unaffected. "How thoughtless of me."

"I don't think you're thoughtless," he says, daringly pulling me down by my collar to kiss back. "It was nice of you miss school for me."

"Ah, well," I begin, embarrassed. "I wanted to play doctor."

He licks my taste off his lips timidly with his tongue. "How come I don't get to see you dressed up in a cute little nurse's outfit then?"

"Doctor." My blush is replaced with a scowl. "I said doctor," I repeat. "Not nurse."

"Right," he says, blushing too like he didn't really mean to voice that thought out loud.

His hand is slowly creeping back towards his neck, sneaky, as if my eyes won't detect the cautious movement.

"Stop it," I order him, smacking his hands away from his skin. "Tell me, Cody, how did you manage to not get Chickenpox until now?"

"Pure skill," he says with a small grin. "But obviously not enough skill to keep me from getting it forever."

"Few are so skilled." I give him a pitying look. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

He blinks. "I'm not." He blinks again. "It's not my fault. Amy gave it to me."

His fingers are wiggling against his palm, trying so hard not to succumb to the urge to scratch like a maniac.

"Here." I take his hands in mine and kiss his fingertips one by one, just because I know he loves when I do this and because I like to, before settling them into purple polka-doted oven mitts.

"Why can't I scratch?" he whines, still trying to do so with the oven mitts on.

"You can, I suppose," I reply offhandedly. "If you want to be scarred for the rest of your life, that is."

The hands still in a heartbeat, resting stationary at his sides.

"Why do they call it Chickenpox?" he wants to know, a big yawn stretching his face.

His yawn is contagious, as most are, and I find my mouth opening as well. "Because you get it from being allergic to chickens."

He gives me a calculating look. "That is so not true."

"Oh it isn't, is it?" I say and raise an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not allergic to chickens," he states, sure of himself.

"That's what I thought too," I say, rubbing my foot against the comforter of his bed. "Until you got Chickenpox."

He snorts and then moves closer.

"I'm tired," he tells me, nuzzling my neck.

"The drugs must be kicking in full effect now," I inform pretty much no one since Cody is half asleep already. "Okay, hold on."

He mumbles a quick protest when I untangle myself from him to get off the bed, hand closing on air as he tries to grasp my clothes to keep me still.

"I'll be right back," I whisper and press a kiss to his cheek.

I get a blanket from the closet, shutting the door and turning off the light to his room behind me.

I wrap the blanket around him, tucking it under his sides so all that can be seen is his head. "You look like a taco."

His eyes open to look at me, blinking quickly as they are met with darkness. "Thank you," he says, voice soft. "Would you like to share this taco shell with me?"

"Very much so," I whisper back even though there's no need to and slide under the covers next to him, arms wrapping around him almost instinctively.

"Mmm…" he mumbles, face buried half in my shoulder and half in a pillow.

I brush his hair away from his eyes even though they are closed and place a few kisses on his forehead, unable to stop because I want to kiss every sore spot of skin.

"I love you, Matty," he sighs into the air.

"Love you too," I confess, stealing one last kiss that really won't be the last, only the last one until we wake up again. "And that's Dr. Matty to you."

Let's face it, humor is just my thing. Today is going on my list of worst days ever. I was really depressed, so I wrote this to cheer myself up. I think it worked, if only a little. I really love writing.