Untitled 4
a Queer as Folk story
by deeplyintothis
Around seven o'clock, Michael heard the front door being opened from his position in the kitchen.
"Hunter, damn it, I asked you to come straight home after school, you're failing biology..." Michael began, exiting the kitchen, still clutching a potholder with a cartoon chicken on it -no matter how much he and Ben had stubbornly refused Debbie's knickknacks, they somehow found their way into the house.
Michael stopped in his tracks when he noticed that the person standing in his doorway was not Hunter, but a very tired-looking Ben, rolling his bike with him.
"Hunter's failing biology?"
"Ben, did you ride home? It's starting to snow, for Christ's sake..." he murmured, hurrying forward and taking the bike from him and leaning it against the wall. "Why didn't you call me? I would have picked you up... your hands are like ice," he muttered, taking them in his and trying to warm them mostly through force of will. Ben hampered his progress by extracting them suddenly to pull a tissue out of his pocket.
"Eischhhoo! Heyyisschhh! HehIschh! Tschhoo!" he bent double at his waist and each sneeze seemed so powerful it scraped his throat. "huh--huhteschhoo! Oh, excuse me..."
"Bless you." Michael quickly removed Ben's damp, cold jacket, dropping it on the floor. "Are you okay?"
Ben rolled his eyes. "Absolutely fine."
Michael bit the inside of his lip. "Look, I know what you're going to say, and I know it's just a cold, but I really don't think you should be riding around in weather like that when you're sick."
Michael hated to pull the "your doctor would agree with me" card, but it felt very tempting at moments like these. But that always made Ben get either guilty or defensive, both of which ended in Michael getting shut out.
"Michael, it's a five-block ride..." Ben contested, not meeting Michael's eyes.
"You should have called me. I was expecting you to call me." Michael said, sounding more measured and calm than he thought he was going to. He hated feeling like he was over-reacting, and whenever Ben's health came up that's how Ben tended to make him feel, so it was always in his best interest to stay calm. Be upfront and honest, but calm. If he could.
There was a pause and Ben finally looked up at him, and then away, with an appropriate level of sheepishness. Michael sighed.
"Come on; bed."
"Seriously; Hunter is failing biology?"
Ben lay in bed, clothed in warm sweats and a t-shirt. Michael was watching TV and folding laundry on the bed at his feet.
"That's what the school said in their email." he replied, folding a pair of Ben's jeans over his arm.
"He talks like he does his homework every night."
"Have you considered that he might be lying to us?" Michael asked, smiling a little.
Ben seemed honestly shocked. "Why?"
Michael rolled his eyes. "Because who the fuck wants to do biology homework."
"I didn't hate biology."
Michael shook his head. "I really can't believe I married a teacher."
"You don't have to fold my stuff." Ben murmured. Michael ignored the comment but looked over at Ben.
"Are you drifting off?" he asked tenderly.
"It's only eight thirty." Ben said, but his eyes weren't even half-open.
"You're exhausted."
"I want to wait till Hunter gets back."
"Don't worry about it. I'll make sure he gets in."
"You shouldn't have to...hehischh! Hehtchoo! Oh... heyischh!" Ben ducked his head to direct the uncovered sneezes downward. Michael offered him a tissue as soon as his eyes reopened. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize."
"You're not going to make him do his home... homework." Ben broke off for a yawn. Before he knew it, Michael had shut off the bedside lamp, and then the TV.
"Get some sleep." Michael kissed Ben on the forehead. "Warm enough?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah."
"Okay. If you need anything, don't hesitate."
Michael made his way out of the bedroom into the living room, shutting the door quietly behind him. The living room lights were off, and he stood for a moment with his back to the bedroom door and took a breath, deep and steady. He tried not to think about the uselessness of the situation; it didn't matter if Michael did every damn thing right, if Ben was going to run around being a dumbass and riding his fucking bicycle back from work in the middle of the winter, already sick...
The front door opened; this time it was Hunter, looking chilly himself and as though he were trying to be quiet. He didn't see Michael standing in the doorway.
"Hey Darwin." Michael said suddenly. Hunter jumped.
"Fuck, Michael, you just lurking there?"
"You're failing biology."
"Yeah, I know."
"You could have mentioned it."
"I'll fix it by semester." Hunter promised, coming in and setting his school bag down on the floor.
"Where were you?"
"Some friends and I were at the park, then we went and got some dinner."
"Great. You could call and say you don't need to be cooked for."
Hunter frowned. "Ben was sick; I figured we weren't going to cook."
Michael resisted the urge to smile, but put the energy into balking instead.
"Like I can't cook?"
"Like you've ever done it before?"
"The boy has a quick and witty tongue."
"The man talks about me in the third person when I'm in the room."
Michael laughed. Hunter sat down on the couch and seemed to consider turning the television on. He looked up at Michael as he leaned forward and grabbed the remote.
"Ben's alright?"
Michael was turning to go back into the kitchen and the question caught him off guard.
"Ben's alright?" Hunter asked again, with an adorably forced nonchalance. Michael smiled and paused by the side of the couch.
"It's just a cold, Hunter."
Hunter looked almost offended. "I know. I didn't fucking break down in tears, I asked how he was."
Michael laughed and nodded. "He's fine."
"He's asleep?"
"Just now went to bed."
Hunter nodded. "I like the guy."
Michael laughed with surprise that he tried to conceal as quickly as possible. "I love the guy."
"Yeah, I'd noticed." Hunter said dryly.
Michael turned and headed toward the computer.
"I've got a little work to finish. Do your homework, Hunter. Do at least your biology. I mean frankly, as long as you pass I couldn't care less, but Ben will come down on you like the fist of God if you don`t get at least a C."
"I'm quaking."
"Laugh now, funny boy." Michael called over his shoulder.
When Michael reentered the bedroom at about eleven, Ben was awake and trying to subdue a coughing fit. Michael got him a glass of water from the bathroom and he drank it and calmed down. Michael sat on the side of the bed and rubbed his back for a few moments.
"How long have you been awake?"
"Hm? Just a few minutes."
Michael stripped off his pants and shirt, getting into bed in his boxers. He propped himself up on one arm and pressed the back of his hand against Ben's forehead. Just a little warm for his comfort. He frowned.
"You want to take some Tylenol? Bring that fever down?"
Ben shook his head. "If I've got a fever it's low. Shouldn't take a fever-reducer unless you need it."
Ben tried to sit himself up a bit and winced at the aching in his joints. Instead he leaned on one elbow toward the edge of the bed, away from Michael, and stifled two quick, congested sneezes into a fist. "Huh-nnchh! Htsch!"
Michael put a hand on his back. "Bless you."
"Ugh. Thank you." Ben sighed, clearing his throat and coughing softly, staying up on his elbow, turned away from Michael.
Some significant part of Michael wanted to call a doctor. Some significant part of him was murmuring HIV/AIDS factoids about fevers and their sometimes-rapid escalation and difficulty to control. But he could just hear Ben telling him that at this point his immune system was almost normal, and that he should be allowed to catch a cold without being dragged into a clinic and poked and prodded at. /You're overreacting, Michael. You always overreact./
"Come here." Michael said quietly, putting a hand on Ben's shoulder and pulling him gently closer.
Usually, for reasons of pure physical logistics, Ben held Michael when they slept. But tonight, since Ben wanted to avoid getting Michael sick and since Michael was in super- protective mode, Ben lied down facing away from Michael and Michael slid his arms around Ben's waist, resting his head on his back.
"Tylenol's a pain-reducer, too." Michael informed him quietly. There was a tight line of concern that ran in his voice that made Ben almost nervous.
"Michael."
"Okay."
"Hunter's back?"
"Yeah. Just a few minutes after you went to sleep. He was concerned about you, you know." Michael smiled.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he asked about you. Asked if you were alright."
There was a pause before Ben spoke.
"Well. That's kind of sweet."
"I think so." Michael kissed Ben's shoulder through his shirt. The two men were quiet for a moment.
"Are you alright? I'm asking for Hunter, mind you."
"I'm fine, sweetheart."
Michael sighed and closed his eyes. "Okay."