muse_write | 13. Green
[Follows THIS, THIS and THIS]
By the time Sophie got to Surrey later that night, Ethan still wasn't feeling much better. His head was killing him and he couldn't shake that nauseated feeling. He managed to avoid throwing up again, but it was easy to pull off when he was horizontal and not moving. But he couldn't stay camped out in Tom and Stuart's guest room forever. He felt tired and achy all over, and the trek from the guest wing to the master suite on the other side of the home seemed like a fucking marathon. He shuffled alongside Sophie, holding her hand, not even saying all that much. She was worried, he could tell from the little looks she kept throwing him. Normally he would have her up against a wall by now, making up for their lost time together. He was just so tired, though, and couldn't stop his head hurting for the life of him. They took a warm bath together, Sophie sitting behind him while he sat in front of her between her legs, enjoying the way she was rubbing her hands softly over his chest. The bubbles were nice and soothing, and she had lit candles around the bathroom to keep the light dim for his head, expertly knowing to avoid the fragranced once, which weren't good for people with migraines. It really was a sad fucking state of affairs when he fell asleep rather than trying to grope her soapy boobs in the water. There was no way he was going to admit that fail boat to Tom and risk having the piss pulled for it.
But it was morning now, Saturday, so there were no guilt trips about spending the night in Surrey. Where Ethan had forgotton about actually seeing the doctor when the guy came to check over Tom's progress, it wasn't something Sophie would let slide. In fact, Ethan was awake for all of five minutes, sitting groggily on the side of the bed while he tried to figure out if he wanted to move to pee or just try and hold it in and go back to sleep. He was hunched over, adorned in just his pyjamas pants and a fitted t-shirt as he looked up at the doctor and Sophie standing beside the bed looking down at him. He scratched lethargically at an itch on his belly, peering wryly up at them. "What is this, an intervention?"
Sophie just leaned over, stroking his cheek with her fingers and then giving a kiss. "Not at all, sweetheart. It's only an intervention if something is wrong, and you keep telling me you're fine," she told him, a teasing edge to her tone. "I'm going to see about breakfast. If you're fine, you should be able to eat a good, hearty breakfast with me before a nice walk out in the gardens." She kissed his head, and then after a throwing a knowing smirk at the doctor, disappeared from the bedroom.
At the mention of breakfast - and a walk- Ethan just turned green and wanted to curl up in a ball under the covers at the end of the bed and not come out. He watched Sophie go and then looked up at the doctor. "You aren't going to make me piss in a bottle, are you? Needles? I hate needles. I really am fine, it's just a migraine. You know how it goes, doc. The pills just aren't working this time."
The doctor, who had been Ethan's doctor since he was a kid, just looked down at the younger man with patient amusement. "Take off your shirt and lie down, Ethan. I'm apparently only here to make sure you're brain won't bleed out of your ears," he said, mirroring what Ethan's lovely young lady had told him and they had shared a chuckle about. Ever since he was young, the Williamson lad had fought and tried his damnest to avoid anything that would stop him or slow him down, and that was a fact that had never changed.
"Doc, I think I'm pregnant," Ethan offered, doing as he was told and tugging his shirt up over his head. When the doctor did actually zero in on his gut, Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "I was only joking!" he protested as the doctor leaned over him to peer at his stomach. "Doc? Oh shit, am I dying?"
The doctor chuckled again as he straightened up, clearing his throat. "No, Ethan, not today. Do you want the good news or the bad news?"
Ethan blinked, horrified. "Bad," he whispered and then his eyes dropped down to his gut for evidence. "Oh my god! What the hell is that?! What the-shit! What is that? I swear, I have no slept with anyone but Soph since I met her! This is not herpes!"
"Guilty conscience, Master Williamson?" The doctor shook his head. "Not herpes, lad. The pox. Chicken Pox to be exact. Two weeks, no work, no being around anyone who hasn't had it. No arguments," he added with a pointed look.
Ethan's mouth dropped open, any potential protest dying on his lips. No work?
Fuck.
Word Count | 859
By the time Sophie got to Surrey later that night, Ethan still wasn't feeling much better. His head was killing him and he couldn't shake that nauseated feeling. He managed to avoid throwing up again, but it was easy to pull off when he was horizontal and not moving. But he couldn't stay camped out in Tom and Stuart's guest room forever. He felt tired and achy all over, and the trek from the guest wing to the master suite on the other side of the home seemed like a fucking marathon. He shuffled alongside Sophie, holding her hand, not even saying all that much. She was worried, he could tell from the little looks she kept throwing him. Normally he would have her up against a wall by now, making up for their lost time together. He was just so tired, though, and couldn't stop his head hurting for the life of him. They took a warm bath together, Sophie sitting behind him while he sat in front of her between her legs, enjoying the way she was rubbing her hands softly over his chest. The bubbles were nice and soothing, and she had lit candles around the bathroom to keep the light dim for his head, expertly knowing to avoid the fragranced once, which weren't good for people with migraines. It really was a sad fucking state of affairs when he fell asleep rather than trying to grope her soapy boobs in the water. There was no way he was going to admit that fail boat to Tom and risk having the piss pulled for it.
But it was morning now, Saturday, so there were no guilt trips about spending the night in Surrey. Where Ethan had forgotton about actually seeing the doctor when the guy came to check over Tom's progress, it wasn't something Sophie would let slide. In fact, Ethan was awake for all of five minutes, sitting groggily on the side of the bed while he tried to figure out if he wanted to move to pee or just try and hold it in and go back to sleep. He was hunched over, adorned in just his pyjamas pants and a fitted t-shirt as he looked up at the doctor and Sophie standing beside the bed looking down at him. He scratched lethargically at an itch on his belly, peering wryly up at them. "What is this, an intervention?"
Sophie just leaned over, stroking his cheek with her fingers and then giving a kiss. "Not at all, sweetheart. It's only an intervention if something is wrong, and you keep telling me you're fine," she told him, a teasing edge to her tone. "I'm going to see about breakfast. If you're fine, you should be able to eat a good, hearty breakfast with me before a nice walk out in the gardens." She kissed his head, and then after a throwing a knowing smirk at the doctor, disappeared from the bedroom.
At the mention of breakfast - and a walk- Ethan just turned green and wanted to curl up in a ball under the covers at the end of the bed and not come out. He watched Sophie go and then looked up at the doctor. "You aren't going to make me piss in a bottle, are you? Needles? I hate needles. I really am fine, it's just a migraine. You know how it goes, doc. The pills just aren't working this time."
The doctor, who had been Ethan's doctor since he was a kid, just looked down at the younger man with patient amusement. "Take off your shirt and lie down, Ethan. I'm apparently only here to make sure you're brain won't bleed out of your ears," he said, mirroring what Ethan's lovely young lady had told him and they had shared a chuckle about. Ever since he was young, the Williamson lad had fought and tried his damnest to avoid anything that would stop him or slow him down, and that was a fact that had never changed.
"Doc, I think I'm pregnant," Ethan offered, doing as he was told and tugging his shirt up over his head. When the doctor did actually zero in on his gut, Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "I was only joking!" he protested as the doctor leaned over him to peer at his stomach. "Doc? Oh shit, am I dying?"
The doctor chuckled again as he straightened up, clearing his throat. "No, Ethan, not today. Do you want the good news or the bad news?"
Ethan blinked, horrified. "Bad," he whispered and then his eyes dropped down to his gut for evidence. "Oh my god! What the hell is that?! What the-shit! What is that? I swear, I have no slept with anyone but Soph since I met her! This is not herpes!"
"Guilty conscience, Master Williamson?" The doctor shook his head. "Not herpes, lad. The pox. Chicken Pox to be exact. Two weeks, no work, no being around anyone who hasn't had it. No arguments," he added with a pointed look.
Ethan's mouth dropped open, any potential protest dying on his lips. No work?
Fuck.
Word Count | 859