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Abel curled up at the edge of the bed, shivering under the thin sheet and covered in a layer of cold sweat. Cain was awake—Abel could hear him shifting around uncomfortably from side to side—but Abel didn't say anything to him; didn't want to irritate him more than he already had.
Cain hadn't touched him in days, ever since Abel had gotten sick with the flu, and Abel had never felt more pathetic or disgusting: Cain wouldn't talk to him—kept to his side of the bed at night and avoided Abel like the plague during the day, leaving Abel sick and alone in the room while he went off to do whatever it was Cain did when he was off-duty. He wrinkled his nose whenever he looked at Abel, as if he couldn't stand the snotty sight of him, and had even gone so far as to steal surgical masks from the medical bay, holding them over his mouth whenever Abel was close enough to breathe on him.
Abel had never felt so alone.
He peeled the sheet off of himself, too hot to bear it, and put the back of his hand to his forehead, pain throbbing behind his eyes. He let out a little gasp when a sharp pain stabbed across his head and his leg slipped off the mattress, hand catching at the wall to stop himself from tumbling to the floor.
"Abel, what the fuck are you doing?" Cain's voice cut through the silence like a whip.
Abel sniffled and took a deep breath, clinging to the edge of the mattress. "My head hurts," he said thickly, wiping his nose with a tissue. "It's nothing, though, don't worry about it; just go back to sleep." His eyes were stinging now, and Abel wasn't sure whether it was the flu making them water or the fact Cain wanted nothing to do with him anymore.
"Fuck..." Cain breathed heavily through his nose. "I... Do you want me to take you up to medical?"
"No," Abel croaked, wiping a hand across his sweaty face and licking his dry lips. "I'm alright, Cain, really. Just... go to sleep."
"What are you doing hanging off the mattress, then?" Cain growled impatiently.
"I know you don't want me near you," Abel replied, and then added, "It's fine, though, I get it. I know you don't want to get sick. I don't want to make you sick."
"Fuck this, Abel." The mattress dipped as Cain got up, and Abel shut his eyes and rolled over onto his back, bringing a hand to his throbbing forehead. He wished now he'd just shut his mouth and let Cain think he was asleep, because now Cain was going to leave him alone in the room again—he couldn't stand Abel when he was sick, and even less when Abel was whining.
Being sick was awful, Abel thought, but being sick alone was even worse. He felt marginally better when Cain was with him, even if Cain couldn't stand being close to him, but he'd gone and opened his mouth now and Cain was leaving again.
He squeezed his eyes shut, a lump rising in his throat, and tried not to cry like an idiot, knowing it'd only make his headache worse.
He heard Cain shuffling around in the darkness then, probably pulling on his clothes, before the bathroom doors slid open and Abel heard the shower turn on. He sat up, confused and rubbing at his eyes, and then lights were burning his eyes, Cain standing over him in just his boxers and pressing the back of his hand to Abel's forehead.
"You're burning up. And stop crying, will you, it's not going to make you feel better," Cain muttered, and Abel blinked, eyes struggling to adjust to the light.
"Cain?" Abel wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling vulnerable and pathetic.
"Get up, I'm putting you in the shower." Cain threw the sheet off Abel's legs and pulled Abel's pajama bottoms down, leaving him naked and exposed. Abel squirmed and turned his head to one side on the pillow, shaking his head.
"Leave it, Cain, I'll do it myself."
"Tch." Cain picked Abel up off the bed before Abel could say anything else and carried him into the bathroom, stepping inside the shower stall with him and setting him down on his feet, cool water spraying over both of them.
Abel shivered at the sudden coldness and Cain put his arms around him, lifting a washer-cloth to Abel's face and wiping down his face, neck and chest.
"Better?"
Abel took a deep breath and nodded as relief washed over him. His skin was no longer burning and he finally felt like he could breathe again. He put an arm around Cain's neck and held him there, still too weak at the knees to trust himself not to collapse. Cain pressed into him, chin on Abel's shoulder, and washed Abel's back with the washer-cloth.
"I'm shit at looking after people," he admitted in a low voice, surprising Abel. "I didn't know what to do, alright? Couldn't afford to get sick, either. You know I've got to keep us on top of the rankings."
"It's alright, Cain, I understand," Abel wearily replied, so tired he wanted to fall asleep against Cain with the cool water sluicing over him.
"No," Cain said gruffly. "You'd have looked after me."
Abel didn't say anything because it was true, and if Cain was feeling spontaneously guilty then Abel didn't want to make him feel any worse.
Cain pushed Abel's wet hair back and kissed the side of his neck. Abel leaned into him, weak and boneless, and pressed his cheek to Cain's shoulder. "I'm sorry if you get sick," he whispered.
"Forget it. Probably gonna get sick anyway," Cain grunted, running the wash-cloth over Abel's arm now. He leaned back to look at Abel, Abel's head slipping off his shoulder, and brought one hand to Abel's face. Abel kept his eyes open, lips pressed firmly together when Cain kissed him, not wanting it if it meant Cain would have to go through this too. He leaned back into Cain when Cain pulled away, head on Cain's shoulder, and gave in to the crushing tiredness, finally relaxed for the first time in days and slowly beginning to fall asleep with Cain stroking his back.