Hamilton One-Shots

Sick Day [Jeffmads]

Modern au.

James watched the flames flicker through half-lidded eyes. He could scarcely feel the heat they sent out. He glanced to the clock and he pulled his eyes open. He rubbed his hand over his eyes trying to disband sleep from his system. He got to his feet and looked around the parlor deciding it was satisfactory.

Thomas would be home soon. He had to at least start supper before he got back.

James walked into the kitchen and clambered around in the cupboard for a few minutes before he found a few boxes he set on the counter beside the stove. He turned around just before he sneezed. He sniffled trying to avoid the mucus from dripping. He got across the tiled floor where there was always a tissue box. He pulled a tissue from the box, another being pulled up to replace it. He held the tissue to his nose, a trumpet sounding as he blew into it. He sniffled and wiped his nose before tossing the soiled tissue in the trash bin.

James reached up above a counter to get the sauce pan. He frowned, stretching his arm up to push the pan off of the hook it hung on. He hardly managed to prevent the metal pan from clattering to the floor as fumbled it in his hands, landing back flat on his feet. He filled the pan partially with water and set it on the stove and put the top on, turning the burner on.

James turned away from the pan and let out a deep breath. He hadn't done much that day, just some work. He shook his head gently, exhaustion washing over him no matter how much he fought it. He leaned against the counter with his arms folded over his chest. He head hung forward, his chin almost touching his chest.

He hadn't meant to drift off. What had been his goal? Perhaps just to rest his eyes. Yes, that sounded reasonable. His mind was blank with sleep, and when he did come back to consciousness he heard the screech of the front door opening and closing.

"I'm back, James!"

James looked to the stove to see the post boiling over and water bubbling out the sides. He panicked, first going to take the top off with his hand. He lifted the top before he dropped it quickly, the heat searing his skin. The metal top clattered to the stove with a loud bang. James grimaced. He pulled open a drawer and got a potholder out. He rushed to turn the burner down. He could hear Thomas calling as he made his way through the house.

"James? Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine," he tried reassuring him as he entered the kitchen. He took a box in his hands and opened the top. He pulled the package out and poured the remaining pasta into the boiling water. "I'm just making dinner." He turned around to see Thomas. His eyes seemed to soften. James knew he meant well, but the way he looked at him whenever he was even coughed was demeaning at times. "Don't look at me like that, please."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a child that needs to be protected from every small danger in the world." Thomas looked ready to protest before he continued. "I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"I know you are," Thomas said. "I just worry for you."

"And that's fine." James turned back to the pan and put the lid back, taking hold of it with the pot holder. "There's no need to baby me, though."

It only took Thomas a few strides to cross the kitchen before James felt his body behind him. He spoke softly next. "What are you making for dinner?"

"What else?" James brought his elbow over his mouth as a dry cough scratched its way up his throat.

"You sure you don't have a cold?"

James turned around to face him with a smile. His throat felt as if he had swallowed sand. "I'm fine."

Thomas put his hand to James' forehead before he could protest. James sighed as Thomas frowned. "You do have a temperature."

"Thomas-"

"Go sit down. I'll make dinner."

"But I already-"

"Go," he insisted.

James relented and went back to the parlor. He sat back down on the sofa and picked up his book. He opened his book up and held it in his hands. He was only a few pages more when Thomas sat beside him. He pushed a steaming cup into his hands as soon as he had put his book back down. He held the cup to his lips and the steam rose over his face. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure." Thomas pulled a blanket over James, securing it around him.

"Thomas-" he started to protest.

Thomas only shushed him. He put his arms around James, holding him comfortingly. James sighed in defeat. He leaned into his boyfriend with the mug held firmly in his hands.