Title: Mister Sweet and Romantic

Author: tarotgal

Fandom: Queer as Folk

Rating: PG

Parings: Justin/Ethan

Spoilers: End of Season 2, beginning of 3

Disclaimer: Queer as Folk is not mine, nor are the characters, and I'm not at all affiliated with the show apart from just being a fan. I write this purely for fun.

Summary: Short ficlet in which Ethan comes down with a cold and Justin gets sweet and romantic

Feedback: Sure! Drop me a line. It's my first QAF fanfic ever, so go easy. :-)

Mister Sweet and Romantic

     Justin set two of the bags down on the floor as he fumbled for the key. Inside, he could hear Ethan sneezing, strong and wet. "huhCHIHHH! HAH-CHOO!" At least the neighbors weren't complaining about that noise... yet. Finally, he found the keys and opened the door, brining the bags with him. "Hey," Ethan called, propping himself up in bed on an elbow as Justin entered, shutting the door behind. "Did you get everything?"

     Justin gave a small smile and breathed out in a half laugh. "Yeah. I'll be broke for a week." He sat down on the edge of the bed, putting three brown paper bags down next to him. "So how are you feeling?" He began to unpack. Three boxes of tissues. A bottle of cough syrup. A pack of cold tablets. Aspirin. Orange juice. Hard candy. And practically a million things besides.

     Ethan shrugged, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with congestion and raspy as though he had to clear his throat. "I'm dying!" He let his elbow slip and he fell back on the bed dramatically. "Get me some paper so I can make out my will."

     Justin smirked. "Sorry, paper wasn't on the list." He pushed the things aside enough to lean over and give him a soft kiss. The soft kiss turned into a more passionate one as their lips got a taste of each other. Justin put his hand on Ethan's cheek to steady himself as he pushed the kiss forward, but then pulled back. "You're burning up!"

     Ethan nodded with a casual shrug. "I told you, I'm dying. Fever of one hundred and five--"

     The concern in Justin's eyes flickered, and he smiled. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

     "My arms hurt so much I could barely lift my bow," he continued to complain.

     "You practiced?" he asked, with concern again.

     Ethan nodded, rolling over onto his side, pushing his head further into the pillow. "I tried," he returned. "Couldn't stop sneezing long enough to concentrate on my Preludio from Partita."

     Justin shrugged. "I'm sure even Johan Sebastian Bach got sick once in a while."

     "My head's throbbing," he continued, the tone of his voice sounding as if he might suddenly start crying. "My nose is running. My throat's on fire. And my whole body aches."

     Justin moved the bags down onto the ground and lay down on the bed, the mattress bouncing at his movement. "You sure do complain a lot when you come down sick."

     Ethan turned his head and coughed into a fist. "Exceptionally honest, that's me."

     Thinking that there was a fine line between being honest and being a pain in the ass, Justin laughed, reaching over to stroke Ethan's cheek. But Ethan pulled back and sat up. He grabbed for a tissue from the box on his bedside table. A bedside table which didn't at all match his bed or his dresser. A bedside table scratched up on one side courtesy of its previous owner. "hur-CHISHH! HUHCHHH! HEH-CHOO!" He reached over and took another few tissues, one at a time, and brought them to his nose. "Uh... I shouldn't have stayed out so long for a few more dollars."

     Justin was most inclined to agree on that point, and eased Ethan back down onto the blankets.

* * *

     The snow fell fast and steadily for an early afternoon in Pittsburg. It fell on his shoulders and his wavy brown hair, melting so slowly it wasn't noticeable. The cold wind blew the end of his scarf, slapping it against his back. His fingers were frozen with the cold, nearly too stiff to move. And still he played.

     Sniffling, he gave a bow to scattered applause as he finished La Campenella for the third time that day. A few quarters were thrown in the case, and a few dollars handed to him so they wouldn't blow away in the fierce winds. "Thanks," he said, sniffling more. Then he bent down to put his violin away. Luckily it was one of his spares and could handle the snow better than he could.

     He turned his head into his shoulder, covered by his scarf. "HUHSHH! HUHCHOO!" Shivering, he sniffed violently and wished that he had a tissue or a handkerchief or even a hot cup of chocolate. "huh-CHEHH!"

     "You should come home," spoke a voice in his ear, meant to be a whisper but loud enough to be heard over the roar of the wind and the snow. Ethan looked over his shoulder as one of Justin's poofy-coated arms wrapped around his middle, squeezing warmly. He hadn't really needed to turn to know who it was, but at the first glimpse of Justin's adorable face and rosy cheeks, he felt better. "You're going to catch a cold if you stay out here too long."

     Ethan stood, taking his violin case with him, still sniffling. Justin stood with him. "I'm a slave to my art. Besides, I've been playing out here since last year. I've never gotten sick."

     "Well there's always a first time," Justin replied, nearly yelling to be heard. "Here," he traded Ethan's violin for a cup of hot chocolate. "Thought you could use some warming up."

     The wind picked up just then, blowing straight into their faces with such force that Ethan swayed weakly. But to cover that, Ethan bounced in place with a shiver and a wide smile. The cup of hot chocolate from the diner was hot in his hands, soothing his fingers. "You're perfect, you know that?" He sniffled and took a few gulps. Warmth filled him, and he sighed.

     "I know," he replied, sounding as though he believed it, but with his normal underlying modesty.

     With a cough, he nudged his scarf over his nose and mouth again. "huh-EHCHOO! HURSHUHH!" He wiped his nose and sniffled wetly.

     "Come on," Justin said, kissing the hair on Ethan's chin, then his nose, then his lips with increasing tenderness. "Let me take you home."

     "Lead the way," Ethan replied with a cough, raising his cup as though in agreement.

* * *

"So, what can I do to help you off death's doorstep?" Justin asked, sharing Ethan's pillow, his nose bumping Ethan's, his hand running through Ethan's hair tenderly. Ethan looked pale, making his features, especially his deep brown eyes, stand out all the more. There seemed to be hurt in his eyes.

     Ethan shrugged with a sniffle. "Just slip me a few cold pills and go put the groceries away." He reached down and pulled the blanket up further.

     Justin narrowed his eyes. "What, and leave you alone?" He kissed Ethan's forehead softly. "Is that why you sent me to the store with a shopping list as long as my dick?"

     "huh-UHSHOO! HUHCHHHH! Hih-hih-CHUH!" He had hoped the sneezes would distract Justin from the last question, but after blowing his nose, he looked up to see the young man still staring with a stern expression. Ethan shrugged again. "I don't want you getting sick, too."

     "Bullshit!" Justin rolled off the bed and pulled the covers up more. Then he squatted down beside the bed, arms folded, head resting on them as he looked up at Ethan. "What's the real reason?"

     Ethan sniffled but snuggled under the very heavy comforter anyway. With another tissue cupped over his nose and mouth, "hur-UHSHH! Huh-CHOO! huh... huh-IHSHHH!" Justin reached out to soothe him, but he flinched, and Justin froze.

     "What's with you?" he asked, rather insulted, but with some curiosity as well. "Are you the only one allowed to be utterly romantic in this relationship? So much so that you won't let me take care of you when you're dying?"

     Closing his eyes with a sigh, Ethan shook his head. "No, I'm just... not very used to it. And I can get a little moody when I get sick." He rubbed at his nose, sniffling wetly, and Justin retrieved a fresh tissue for him, which he used gracefully. "It'd be better if you just left me alone until I feel better."

     Justin's eyebrows raised. "You're saying that you, mister genius violinist, mister dark smoldering eyes, mister sweet and romantic, are a bad patient?"

With a cough. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I'm not so sweet and romantic when I'm sick."

     A grin spread his face. "Well then, I'll just have to be extra sweet and romantic to make up for it." He aimed a tickle at Ethan's stomach, and even though it was felt less through the blankets and it hurt his head a bit, the dark haired boy laughed. His hands on Ethan's shoulders, Justin sprang up and jumped over Ethan in bed, snuggling up to him from behind and above the blankets. "And there's absolutely no escape."

     "Are you always this... stubborn?" he asked, getting ready for another sneeze. Justin handed over another tissue. "huh-CHOO! hehSHUHH! HEH-CHOO!"

"Always, my sneezey love." He hugged the man closer and nuzzled into the back of his neck. He pressed his groin harder against Ethan's rear, hard even through the blankets. "Besides, I can think of a good way to make you forget you're dying."

     "Oh yeah?" replied Ethan with a cough, his voice low and shaky, but with a grin nonetheless. "Why don't you show me?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Enthusiastically, he pulled the blankets down and crawled beneath.