Will had a cold. He had a cold, and it was all Jason's fault.
...for going with Will's dumbass impulses, anyway. But still.
"We're never doing that again," he mumbled, unsure if Jason could hear him with how sore his throat was, incapacitating him from his favorite pastime (speaking).
"It was your doing," Jason, the sensible, cruel creature replied, unimpressed.
Will didn't quite understand what was happening with his immune system. As a kid, he'd jump in puddles in the rain, shared spoons of ice cream with friends, and, one time, spent three consecutive nights sleeping on a humid pillow to try and get a little fever in order to skip school (it didn't work). And well, none of it made him sick. Maybe this was just what getting old was like.
"Life sucks," Will said, apropos of nothing and everything.
"Eat your soup." Jason was unforgiving today.
A small blessing: he couldn't smell or taste anything, including the greenish, lumpy thing Jason was calling a 'soup'.
Will ate it anyway. If the years with his boyfriend had taught Jason anything, it was Will's medic stubbornness.
They then spent a good ten minutes deciding on a show to watch, and after five minutes of actually watching it, Will interrupted:
"I'm a bit tired. Read me a story?" Will was starting to suspect he was a bit high from the cough medicine, because he would have never asked this of Jason if he weren't in an altered mental state.
For some reason, Jason kissed him on the cheek, which was commonplace at this point, but also unexpected and dangerous, since Will was one kafkaesque disaster away from fully becoming a germ.
Jason got up from the bed, taking the empty bowl with him, and returned a minute or more later with a familiar pink book. Will perked up.
The first pages of Pride and Prejudice didn't immediately put him to sleep, since it was all so well-known to him that the anticipation of laughing made him agitated. But by the middle of the second chapter, Will was dozing, the blanket on his bare chest and the surety of Jason by his side creating the perfect conditions for his sleep.
He was in the world between wakefulness and sleep when the memory came to the edge of his mind. He smiled, or thought he smiled, feeling the ghost of droplets making his jeans stick to his legs, making him shiver under his jacket.
He remembered Jason's grin, eyes slightly squinted, because he'd taken off his now soaked glasses. Jason wasn't showing signs of being cold, even if he'd been caught by surprise under a rain so heavy that they could hear it starting from the inside of the movie theater they'd just left.
"You can control the rain," Will was shouting, gleeful. Jason was looking at him with a very familiar glint in his eyes, which told Will he was thinking of how best to make him laugh next. It didn't quite make his stomach jump so much as it made his entire body delighted in advance.
The response was not immediately apparent to Will. It came in the form of a gush of cold ass wind that pushed Will from behind – landing him straight into Jason's waiting, smug arms.
"What—" he started saying a second before realization hit him.
Jason looked immensely satisfied with himself, a picture perfect of a quasi-god being a little shit.
"You," was all he managed to say, and he hoped it conveyed everything he was feeling for Jason at that moment. Then he circled Jason's neck with his arms, bringing him down a couple notches, and kissed him.
Jason was made for rain. He tasted even better than usual, felt stronger, more real. Everything that he was, was amplified. They tangled and untangled and found each other again after seconds, and every part of Will's body was in touch with Jason's. Their silhouette was one.
They probably could have gone forever, what with Will practically being a miniature sun and Jason being the son of the god of storms. What did a mere rain have on them?
But a lightning struck nearby, so bright it hurt Will's closed eyelids. The shock (pun unintended) of it was so great that they instinctively separated, looking at each other for a minute, too dazed to formulate coherent thought as thunder roared everywhere around them.
Will wasn't surprised at finding his mind blank and stupid after that. The real surprise was Jason having to blink and gather his bearings too before regaining the ability for speech. Damn. They'd have to do something about that later.
And that was how they found themselves at home, tangled and soaked to the bone, and unwilling to find warmth in any way other than through each other. Teeth chattering and skin cold and the desperation between had never burned hotter. Will loved him.
"We should fuck like that again," Will mused as he stretched his whole body on the bed, blinking away the last remnants of his nap.
The sudden introduction of the subject didn't seem to surprise Jason much. He merely blinked at Will twice, thoughtful, as a video kept playing on his phone.
He finally said, "Well, duh."
Uuuuugh. Will loved him.
Will must have looked thoughtful too while he stared in the distance and contemplated the vastness of his feelings, because Jason smiled after a while and said, "Hey, you think maybe that whole storm was a sign I should introduce you to my dad soon?"
"You think mine hitting me with this," he gestured to his current incapacitated self, "is a sign I should introduce you to him?"
Jason blinked again, then laughed, and Will laughed, and plans were made while the rain quietly let out outside.