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Nathan Miller was tough. Nathan Miller had taken a bullet once. Nathan Miller was quick on his feet, one of the best detectives Washington had. Nathan Miller was in a boxing club during his spare time. Nathan Miller did not get taken down by things like the flu.
Except for today.
Today, he was cold all over, even though his face was sheened with sweat. He hadn't kept his breakfast down for more than twenty minutes, and he kept tasting bile in his throat, especially when he tried to drink anything, even though he knew he was supposed to be staying hydrated. His head felt stuffy, and his nose was running, and he sounded like he'd swallowed asphalt when he tried to speak.
It had taken Bellamy ten minutes to send him back home, where he promptly fell into bed and passed out in a dizzy haze.
Apparently Bellamy had called Monty as well, because Nathan's boyfriend was pressing soft hands to his face when he cracked his eyes open a few hours later.
"I was hoping your fever would've broken by now." The dark-haired boy was sighing, but gave him a small smile regardless. "Guess you're just too hot."
Even though he still felt like he was dying, Nathan managed a hoarse laugh, rolling his eyes. "What are you doing here? Don't you have work?"
"Perks of co-owning the company, I get to make the interns cover for me when I have to take care of your sick rear." Monty smirked and pressed a kiss to Nathan's forehead before standing up and taking a damp rag from his forehead. "I'll be right back. Stay awake a little longer, okay? You need to hydrate."
"Sir, yes, Sir." The older boy teased, propping himself up on a pillow as the sheets pooled around his hips. All throughout their relationship, he'd taken care of Monty being sick at least once a winter, but he couldn't remember the favor ever being returned, seeing as Nathan didn't get sick very often. When he did, he usually pushed through it and went on anyway. It was kind of nice to let someone take care of him.
Monty came back in a few minutes later with a tray holding a bowl of steaming soup, and three glasses -two of Sunny D, and one of ice water. Nathan could smell the spices as soon as he walked in the room, and his empty stomach growled at the thought of something other than the coffee he'd sipped that morning.
"That's not from a can." He mentioned, trying not to smile at the fact that Monty had cooked him lunch.
"Nope. My mom's recipe." Monty grinned proudly as he set the tray down, handing Miller the water first and laughing a hit when he caught him staring at the bowl. "You've never had anyone make you homemade soup when you were sick?"
Nathan took a few sips of water before he answered, letting the liquid ease the pain in his throat. "My mom did." He smiled sadly, the way he always did when talking about his mother. "'S been a while."
Monty insisted on feeding him bites of soup after that, made him finish a full cup of juice before Nathan could lay back down. And when the older boy mentioned that he was cold, Monty crawled under the blankets to curl his body around his boyfriend's, even though Nathan just laughed and said, "Greenie, you're always cold. How is this going to help?"
Monty told him to shut up, and grabbed the extra blanket.
And when Nathan's fever had broken, and he woke up to find a sleeping Monty still curled up on his chest, he decided that it was definitely nice to be taken care of by Monty Green.