Chicken Soup for the Guide's Soul - cbtreks
"Aw, man, Jim, I'm gonna die."
Jim would've been alarmed if he hadn't known exactly what was bothering Blair.
"I told you, Chief, eventually your body gets to a point where it won't let you live like you're 18 anymore. You're what, 35, right? You can't live that no sleep, all-caffeine-and-energy-bar life-style anymore."
If looks could kill, Jim would've been joining Blair in that theoretical final ending.
"Yeah, yeah, rub it in. My stomach is killing me."
"Should've had some solid food with those aspirins." At Blair's glare, Jim threw up his hands and said, "Never mind, no more 'I-told-you-sos'. Here, lie down and I'll get you a ginger ale."
Fifteen minutes later he was back carrying a tray loaded with ginger ale, chicken soup, and dry toast.
Blair opened his eyes and gave Jim a pained grin. "I don't have the flu."
"Upset stomach, same treatment. Sit up a moment."
Jim set the tray on the coffee table, then sat on the sofa, placing a pillow in his lap and urging Blair to lie back down with his head on the pillow.
"When you feel like eating, let me know. If the soup's cold, I can reheat it. Meanwhile - " He began to gently rub Blair's forehead with one hand and his stomach with the other. After a few minutes he felt Blair relax. "Better?" he asked softly.
His only answer was a snore.
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Acknowledgments: Thank you to Patt for the art. This was written for Patt for her Christmas list. To MiniNaNoWriMo for making sure I write something every day for at least one month of the year.