just_muse_me | 6.8.6. Sick
Nov. 20th, 2008 04:26 pm6.8.6. PICTURE: Sick in bed
Co-written with
sexyinscrubs
It started with a tickle in his throat during his afternoon meeting with a new client. A few slight coughs and reaching for the water jug more often than he normally would. By the time he made it home that evening, he had a raging headache and was so tired, he found himself yearning for his warm bed on the elevator ride up to his apartment. Dinner was nothing more than a cup of tea followed by ten minutes of Law & Order on television before he gave up fighting the lethargy and crawled into bed at just before seven thirty, sleep claiming him almost immediately.
It was the phone ringing that woke him and as he made a blind fumble to answer it, peering at the clock as it did. It took him a few moments to realise it was eight am, not eight at night. He had slept more than twelve hours straight; a feat for someone who rarely went beyond seven hours a night. The reach for the phone alerted him to the fact his muscles were aching, but it was when he answered and his name came out in a painful croak through a swollen sore throat that he realised he was sick.
“Aiden?”
( Aiden knew the voice and accent, and despite feeling like utter crap, a smile appeared on his lips... )
Word Count | 567
Co-written with
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
It started with a tickle in his throat during his afternoon meeting with a new client. A few slight coughs and reaching for the water jug more often than he normally would. By the time he made it home that evening, he had a raging headache and was so tired, he found himself yearning for his warm bed on the elevator ride up to his apartment. Dinner was nothing more than a cup of tea followed by ten minutes of Law & Order on television before he gave up fighting the lethargy and crawled into bed at just before seven thirty, sleep claiming him almost immediately.
It was the phone ringing that woke him and as he made a blind fumble to answer it, peering at the clock as it did. It took him a few moments to realise it was eight am, not eight at night. He had slept more than twelve hours straight; a feat for someone who rarely went beyond seven hours a night. The reach for the phone alerted him to the fact his muscles were aching, but it was when he answered and his name came out in a painful croak through a swollen sore throat that he realised he was sick.
“Aiden?”
( Aiden knew the voice and accent, and despite feeling like utter crap, a smile appeared on his lips... )
Word Count | 567