“Because why?”
“Because I’m not fun to be around when I’m sick,” Andrew snaps.
“Who the fuck made you think you needed to fun all the time?”
“Everyone,” Andrew replies. “All my brothers are fun. I’m not. But it’s worse when I’m sick. I’m whiny and difficult.”
“Okay.”
“Are you even paying attention to the words coming out of my mouth? I’m germy anddifficult, Nicki. Take the out while you still can.”
“I heard you,” Nicholas says, rubbing circles on Andrew’s belly. He’s reminded so much of the rage room when Andrew had tried so hard to push him away. He hadn’t actually wanted to be alone though, just been terrified of being seen at his worst.
“Then you should let me go in the other room and wallow. Ignore me until this is over.”
“Nope.” Nicholas lays both hands on Andrew’s belly, spreading his fingers wide then drawing them up until they’re settled over his chest. His skin is impossibly warm, heart beating so fast every thud slams into Nicholas’s palm.
“What do you mean, nope?” Andrew croaks.
“I meannope.” Nicholas pops the p, his accent heavy even to his own ears. “We’re showering, then I’m keeping you. I already told you, you’re going in my bed where you belong, princess.”
“That was before you realized I was sick,” Andrew says, his fight already dwindling. “I have germs. That’s disgusting.”
Nicholas bends down and licks the side of Andrew’s neck. “Mine.”
“Absolutely fucking ridiculous,” Andrew says, voice breathy and shaky. “Brute.”
“Can we shower now?”
“You’re going to get sick and blame me.”
“Who the fuck blames someone else for getting them sick?”
“Charlie and Alec. Oh, and my dad. My mom is usually more level-headed and rarely gets sick, and Jason just blames his students. I’ve always had a propensity to get sick. I think it’s the stress and poor sleeping habits. And since I was always the first one, and then it inevitably got passed around the house, well—” Andrew shrugs. “It was easier to stay in my room so I didn’t bother anyone.”
“Bother me.”
Andrew lifts his eyes, and while Nicholas is not so much of an asshole to mention it, Andrew does look like shit. His coloring is off, his face flushed, and there’s a grumpy frown on his face. Even his usually pressed polo is wrinkled.
“I said, bother me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Try me.”
“You’re being nice and that’s annoying. You still smell like Tony’s shampoo, and I hate it. I can feel every single place my clothes are touching me, and I want to rip my skin off. I’m hot, which means I probably have a fever because I’m never hot, which would explain why my heart is pounding, but when my heart pounds, I feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack. Thinking about having a panic attack stresses me out so much my heart beats faster, and then I can’t tell if it’s the fever or my brain. I’m also overthinking the way you’re looking at me right now because you said you like me, but you don’t know me well enough yet. Not all of me, and I want you to, and I don’t want you to, and that makes me want to cry. I hate crying by the way, it gives me a headache and makes me feel out of control.”
By the time he’s finished, his hands are trembling, and he looks like a strong wind could knock him over.
“That all?”
“No, I’m pissed off you’re handsome.”
Nicholas barks out a laugh.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re not sorry, you handsome fucker. Do you know how many times I’ve cared that someone is handsome?”
