Utterly Forgettable | MM Romance | Complete

Four: What Will It Be? (1/2)

Josh had trouble falling asleep that night, hyperaware of Emery's presence. Emery's slumber didn't seem remotely restful despite how exhausted he had been. The blanket ended up on the floor half a dozen times from his weak thrashing, brow furrowed even in sleep; every single time Josh had gotten up to cover him, he'd been shivering.

The occasional sounds Emery made weren't whimpers — Emery Hall didn't whimper, Josh told himself with the assertiveness born of wilful self-delusion. When he tried to feel Emery's temperature, he found his skin cold and clammy to the touch, his cough unrelenting. To Josh's surprise, Josh's palm on his forehead seemed to calm him down somewhat; Emery didn't rise, but his sleep was less troubled after that.

Acting on instinct, Josh knelt by the sofa, wanting to offer some comfort for a moment longer; he woke up at first light, still on his knees, drooling over the armrest, with his arm numb and his palm resting on Emery's forehead. He was lucky Emery hadn't had a chance to see him like that.

Josh wiped the drool from his face and told himself the only reason he was pressing his lips to Emery's forehead was so he could tell if the man was running a fever. Which he likely was, given how hot his skin felt under Josh's lips. Giving up any pretense of going back to sleep, Josh busied himself with taking a quick shower before calling Mark from further down the hall, where he could still keep an eye on Emery without disturbing him.

Mark picked up after a small eternity. "I'm up, mom."

Josh rubbed his weary eyes, the corners of his mouth curving upwards. "Not your mother."

"Of course you are — the only other person who calls me at this hour is my boss, and I'm not calling you 'boss'."

"You should be so lucky. Was Sam mad at me yesterday?"

"Mostly she was mad she missed the drama. Serves her right for being late. Zoe and Dan, absent any sort of personal life, were thrilled to have lived vicariously through yours."

Josh snorted. "I'm sure all you agony aunts made it seem a lot more interesting than it was. Listen, are you going to be at the hospital today?"

"That depends — do you need something, or is it the deadweight you brought home from Central Park yesterday?"

"He's not deadweight," Josh hissed. Mark was a kind and compassionate man, but the mere mention of Emery's name served to make him forget that. "And anyway, how do you know I brought him home?"

"Because you wouldn't be calling me before I even had a chance to shower if you hadn't. So I'll take that as a yes, you brought him home, and yes, he's the one who needs something."

"And I'll take that as yes, you'll be at the hospital today."

"Touché. What does he need, aside from a personality transplant?"

Josh rolled his eyes despite the lack of an audience. "You've never even met him!"

"And I hoped I never would, after the way he behaved with you."

"Promise me you're not going to have that attitude when I bring him by."

"At the hospital? No. I'm a doctor there, not your friend; if he comes in needing care he's going to find me respectful and professional. I make no promises if you make me look at his face in any other situation."

"I just want to get him checked out. He was coughing all through the night, even in his sleep."

"Ugh. Please tell me you didn't sleep with him."

"Oh for the love of— Of course I didn't!"

"There may be hope for you yet."

"I'm serious now, Mark — his cough doesn't sound right, and I think he's running a fever."