Side Story 4: The Beast, Defeated
It started with a sneeze.
A single, violent, chest-rattling sneeze that shook the walls and startled the cat.
Eli turned from the kitchen sink. "Was that a sneeze or a gunshot?"
Aaron stood in the hallway, arms crossed tight, jaw clenched.
"I don't sneeze."
Eli raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Your nose just barked?"
Aaron didn't respond. He sniffed hard — a terrible, wet, awful sound that made Eli flinch.
"You're sick," Eli said, crossing the room.
"I'm fine."
"You're pale."
"I'm always pale."
"Your eyes are bloodshot."
"I haven't slept."
"You're shivering."
Aaron growled. "It's cold."
Eli placed a hand on his forehead.
Aaron slapped it away like a rebellious teenager. "I said I'm fine."
Eli smiled sweetly.
"Oh, you are so going to bed."
By noon, Aaron was horizontal on the couch, wrapped in three blankets, arms folded like a sulking Viking in exile.
His voice was gone. His nose was red. He refused to drink tea because it was "too dainty" and wouldn't take medicine unless Eli personally poured it into his mouth.
Eli was having the time of his life.
"Do you want lemon or ginger?"
"Whiskey."
"You'll die."
"Good."
By nightfall, the fever kicked in.
Aaron muttered nonsense about drywall and said something about "protecting the perimeter."
Eli wiped his forehead, swapped out the damp towel, and whispered, "You're not under siege, love. You have a cold."
Aaron groaned like he'd been shot in battle.
"I hate this. I hate this body. I should be cutting lumber."
"You can barely cut a sentence."
Aaron glared.
Eli leaned down and kissed the tip of his red nose. "Even sick, you're dramatic."
Aaron grumbled something unintelligible, then pulled Eli into his chest and refused to let go.
"You're burning up."
"Then stay," Aaron croaked.
And Eli did.
For the next three days, Eli became nurse, mother, warden, and devil.
He spoon-fed Aaron soup.
Forced him to shower.
Wrapped his hair in a towel and said "you look like a wet lion."
Aaron cursed him in a hoarse voice.
Eli cooed, "Don't growl at me, bear."
By Day Four, the fever broke.
Aaron emerged from bed like a man reborn.
He stood shirtless in the kitchen, making eggs, still sniffling — but trying to pretend like none of it had ever happened.
Eli walked in and hugged him from behind.
"You survived the Great Plague of Last Week."
Aaron muttered, "Never speak of it again."
"Didn't I carry you to bed?"
"No."
"Didn't I wipe your nose with a cartoon-print tissue?"
Aaron turned slowly, glaring.
Eli kissed his cheek. "You're welcome, big guy."
Aaron huffed. "Don't get used to it."
But when Eli pulled away…
Aaron reached for his hand.
Held it.
And whispered: "I didn't think I could be that weak in front of someone."
Eli smiled.
"You weren't weak. You were just… human."
Aaron looked at him.
Then leaned in and said:
"I'd rather get stabbed than get sick again."
"Duly noted."
That night, they fell asleep tangled together, the cough syrup bottle forgotten on the nightstand, and Eli's head resting on Aaron's chest — which finally rose and fell without protest.
The bear had been defeated.
By tea.
And love.
[End of Side Story 4: The Beast, Defeated.]