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Holiday Headache

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John hmmph'd and hitched the duvet higher around his chest, staring up at the ceiling for the umpteenth time in several hours.  Already the Twitter responses were pouring in, wishing him well.  

At least the legion of Team Barrowman fans were sharing sympathy, he thought grumpily, listening to the laughter and voices in the living room of the cabin.  

What was supposed to be a relaxing ski vacation with friends and family had turned into a nightmare of sniffles, fever, and general lethargy.  After waking up with a cough and not having the energy to even get dressed, Scott had immediately tucked him back into bed with firm instructions not to move.  The act of picking up his phone to take a selfie had left him drained enough that he couldn't argue either.

The laughter hit a new crescendo, and John punched the pillow next to his head.  Lacking the energy to join them, much less get out on the slopes, was the complete opposite of his usual perpetual motion.

The bedroom door cracked open, and Scott peeked in, cheeks flushed from the icy chill outside and the roaring fire inside.  He took one look at John's pout and entered the room fully, shutting the door against the cavalcade of voices behind him.

"How are you feeling, love?"

"I hate being sick."  He knew it made him sound like a whiny child, but he truly despised being stuck in bed.

Scott settled on the bed beside him, cool hand resting on his heated brow.  "It's the only time you ever slow down.  Panto really knocked you down this year.  You need to rest as much as anyone else."

"At least you get to be out in the snow," he muttered.  "Can't even stand up to join you."

"You know I'd stay here if you want."  His husband wasn't letting him sulk properly.  Completely unfair.

John sighed, turning to press his cheek against Scott's palm.  "I know.  I'm sorry honey, this was supposed to be our holiday together."

Scott smiled and leaned in to kiss his forehead.  "Shhh, and try to sleep.  I'll be back later with tea and soup.  And I'll tell everyone to keep it down a little while you're resting.  There's no need for us to make you feel even worse."  Standing, he fluffed the pillows and fussed with the duvet until John made a shooing motion with his hand.

"Go on, Scottie.  I'll be fine."

"I still worry about you, you know."

"Then hurry back to come keep me warm."

"Always."