Title: I Hate You
Author: tarotgal
Rating: R
Pairing: Marcus/Oliver
Disclaimer: NOT my characters or world. I don’t get a penny from this.
Summary: Marcus and Oliver in the morning.
Notes: Every time I have a snow day, I like to write snow drabbles. I was in the middle of writing one when this one jumped out at me instead.

I Hate You

“I hate you. Do you know that?” Marcus asked from the lit hallway, staring back into the dark bedroom where a pair of eyes stared back at him. They blinked, which he took to be a ‘yes.’ He also took that to be an invitation. Marcus put down his hat and gloves, the last part of his ensemble, and headed back to the bedroom.

Oliver was nothing more than a head sticking out of a huge pile of blankets tucked tightly around him. Marcus hesitated, then reached down and rubbed several fingers against Oliver’s forehead. It was still horribly warm. The potion Oliver had taken before bed was supposed to at least break his fever, and it hadn’t; Marcus would give the team healer a piece of his mind for this. Oliver blinked again. “You hate me?” His voice was rough, deep, weak. “You get to go to practice while I have to lie here in bed, useless. If anything, I hate you, Flint.”

Marcus smiled. That was his Oliver, all right. “Yeah, but you get to lie here all day, all warm and cozy in our bed while I have to go brave the snow and ice. It’s going to be murder out there on the pitch. Not even you would enjoy that.”

“Sounds won… wonder…” He sucked in several short, hitching breaths. And in the time it took for the sneeze to build, Marcus had pulled a tissue out of the box on the bed and held it to Oliver’s nose and mouth. “Hifschhhh!”

The sneeze had been wet, strong, and the tissue hadn’t been enough for it. Marcus winced as he balled the thing up and tossed it into the bedside bin. “That was kind of disgusting, Wood.”

“’Scuse be.” Oliver’s eyes tried to stay open, but he was losing the battle to the fuzziness of his head and heat of his body. The congestion and fever were trying to take over.

“’S’okay,” he said, stroking Oliver’s forehead again with his thumb. “I kind of like disgusting.”

Oliver opened one eye and his matching eyebrow rose.

Marcus laughed. “Okay, that’s not exactly what I meant. But like I said yesterday, I don’t care if you’re a little ill. Now stay right here, understand? Stay right here in bed and I’ll be back after practice to curl up to your back and wrap my arms around you.”

Oliver’s other eye opened. “Oh, I hate you.”

Confused, Marcus stopped stroking Oliver’s forehead.

“Now you’ve got me all worked up and I have to wait all morning for you to come back and deal with me.”

Marcus grinned and pressed a kiss to the bridge of Oliver’s nose.