theattic | THE FLUFF CORNER

The abruptness of Maurice falling asleep made Hanna's eyes widen to the size of saucers. He stared, horrified, and for a moment, stupidly went to feel for his pulse before he realized the man was dead, of course he didn't have one.

If Maurice was actually just asleep, that was good, but...he would breathe occasionally when sleeping, and if he didn't in the next few minutes, Hanna would give himself the green light to panic. His eyes darted between Maurice and the clock on the wall for a good five minutes before a stuttered breath was drawn in and Hanna could let his own go, hand over his heart. Damn vampire was going to give him a heart attack. "At least he's actually sleeping..." He grumbles, shakily standing up and giving Maurice one good look before heading out of the room and shutting the door mostly behind him. He left it open a crack, just in case shutting it all the way would make it hard to hear if Maurice did call for him.

Considering going out to grab more medication, potentially something to boost his immune system like airborne or Alkaseltzer, he wondered if that would even work... Ten points has him thinking no.

He fidgets for a good ten minutes more before he parks his ass on the couch and reaches into his pocket for his shitty cellphone in all it's prepaid, employee discount glory. It had a few numbers in it, the few people he had managed to meet, and he dove into the contacts list, one particular number on the speed dial. Pressing call, he brought it up to his ear and waited, hoping he wasn't calling too late, not even remembering what day it was and if it was Sunday, he hoped he wasn't interrupting anything....southern-y. If Mrs. Hutch treated Sundays like some of his customers did, yelling at him about why he wasn't in church, he'd be in for it for sure.

In any case, when she does answer the phone, he sounds kind of pathetic, possibly a little panicky, "H-hello? Mrs. Hutch? Uh, I got a question, if you're not too busy."

For a moment, there is a burst of static and the roar of a television as Margret tries to dig the phone out from under an enormous black and white cat.

"Hello?" There was a hint of frustration in her voice, but Hanna couldn't have known about the cat. When he announced himself, however, she almost spoke over him in her excitement. "Well hey there, hon! Naw, me'n the cats are just sittin' here watchin some paid actors win this fishin' boat, what are you up to?"

Hanna, for a moment, feared for his immortal soul, but the tone she had answered with changed so suddenly that he actually breathed out a sigh of relief. "O-oh...Um. I'm sitting too, just." He swallows, fighting the urge to say 'trying to keep breathing and not panic', "Just got Maurice to go to sleep. He's uh, not feeling well." There, much better.

He leans back into the couch, trying to let it soak him in, possibly eat him, but it's not so overly stuffed and unfortunately he'll just have to keep talking, "I was wondering if there was anything you used to do for him when he was sick? Yanno...like family recipes or something. I dunno. I'm not the best caretaker..." Yup, totally pathetic. "Anything would help."

Margret leaned forward as she cupped her chin on one hand with the phone held in the other, grinning ear to ear. He'd had a question about Maurice, that was right! And she listened. And listened. Just got Maurice to bed? Oho, you sly little carrot!

But then comes the bad news.

"Oh..." She hurried to mask her disappointment as what Hanna just said really sank in. "Oh! But--hon, he's dead. Are you sure he just didn't--you know how he is. What's th' matter with him?"

Hanna kind of laughed into the phone at her immediate answer of 'he's dead', shaking his head and leaning back, kind of slipping to the side and resting his head against the arm of the couch. Sitting still was hard right now. "Well, yeah. I know that. But, he doesn't have to breath, but when he does, he sounds like he's got liquid in his lungs, and he's warm, which is really odd. And he was kind of...disoriented when he woke up. Like, more than usual. So I think it's a cold. I mean, he's definitely got a fever..." Hanna chewed his lip, "He said he might just be hung over, but he hasn't had anything to drink that i've seen." And even if he didn't have to see it, he knows what it smells like so he'd have known if he did.

"I gave him some NyQuil and he passed out real quick...I just am at a loss. Like, can't give him vitamins cause that's gonna do fu- Um. Not much." He corrects his dirty mouth and continues, "I had him drink some tea, but I dunno what that'd do either."

"Now that is...odd. I didn't know vampires could get colds. He hasn't said anything about that long as I've known he's been one." She leaned forward and rocked herself out of the chair, making her way through the sea of cats and looking for one of the HUTCH FAMILY TOMES. "Well, if there's one thing I can do, I can kill a cold. Get you some paper, hon!"

AND THEN THE LESSON BEGAN. She gave him every weapon under the son from soups that went back four generations to boarderline ritualistic cures involving standing upside down and whistling to something as simple as--

"And keep him propped up so all that can drain. He'll cough it out when he's strong enough. And don't YOU go and catch it! I can't have both my boys sick or I'll have to come down there and fuss over ya'll myself. And ya'll wouldn't like that."

She added with a hint of mischief.

Hanna did his best to keep up with her, having grabbed a notebook, flipping to a page that wasn't full of rune designs or stupid doodles. He's surprisingly serious, much more than he usually would be, and it's obvious that he's worried over the phone, more obvious that in his worry, he'll do his absolute best to follow the instructions and ideas given to him.

And, as she slows in her teaching, even if Hanna's hand hurts and he's already gone through one pen, he's admittedly feeling a lot better about he whole thing. If what he couldn't do was enough, he doubts that she would mind if he asked her to come over. He had a feeling she'd even be thrilled at the idea, and smiles into the mouth piece, resting his forehead against he phone.

"You're a gem, you know that? I'll try my best not to get sick myself, and thank you so much for your help. If I can't use it all this time, I'll be prepared for it whenever it comes back around." Glancing over at the clock, he's been on the phone a good hour and a half, and while he'd like to continue the conversation, he knows he doesn't have much more than 200 minutes on his phone, and he's already used a few calling Maurice during his breaks at work. "I'll have to talk to you later though, but really, thank you. I'd kind of be a mess without you, Mrs. Hutch."

"Oh, hush, you!" Margret couldn't keep herself from laughing though. Hanna really knew how to throw out a compliment. "You call me any time you wanna ask me anything."

Way to be subtle, Margret.

"OR, you know, just shoot th' breeze. I don't get a whole lotta phone calls." Her tone finally turned a little more serious. "Lemme know how he's doin' tomorrow, I'll admit I'm a little worried. I never heard of no vampire catchin' no cold either."

She carried on praising him for being so thoughtful and eager to help before finally letting him put the phone down.

"Me neither. I'd like that, just can't talk too long or I'll get a bill I can't afford." He laughs, not at all bothered about the idea that he can't afford much. Life's always been like that and he's been quite okay with it. He's pretty happy where he is. "I'll call you tomorrow though, don't worry. Just, expect a call in the evening since he doesn't get up till late."

He said his own goodbyes and finally, ended the call, sighing heavily and feeling less stressed than he had before. He had no idea why he didn't talk to Maurice's mom more. She was one of the nicest ladies he had ever met. Reminded him of his own mom, just...with a more southern flair, which he supposed was to be expected. In any case, he looked down at his notes, over to the kitchen, and then at the bedroom door. Well. If Maurice was going to sleep a little longer, he supposed that it wouldn't hurt to head out to the store and get the ingredients he needed for the recipe he'd been provided with. And while he was kind of shit at driving Maurice's truck, he actually had renewed his license after a lot of finagling, and so he headed out, Maurice's keys in hand.

A trip to his store and back didn't take too long, especially since none of his coworkers cared to greet him while he was there, which didn't bother him any. It made the trip easier, and on the drive home, he even attempted to sing along with what ever was on the radio, parking and heading right in to work on the soup he was going to hope helped speed up his boyfriends recovery.

Hanna working away in the kitchen managed to draw the beast out of hiding because soon heavy bare footfalls were slapping on the tile as Maurice wandered in. He was still rasping and he was still not his usual chilly blue, but his eyes were at least open and not full of gunk. He'd also fluffed up his hair so that it wasn't completely stuck to his forehead.

He drew in a long, deep, disgusting breath and exploded into another coughing fit. "What is that?" His voice was thick, same as it was when he was drunk. Thanks NyQuil. "It smells...amazing? I think. I can't really tell. But it looks like it smells amazing. You're amazing, Hhhhhhhhhanna."

If anything, Maurice had taught Hanna to follow recipes, and he knew how to do that pretty well. Admittedly a lot of his lack of cooking was due to his lack of want to, but right now he really wanted to, and he was trying his best to make it exactly how Mrs. Hutch might. Honestly, the recipe was pretty simple, and he was even smiling to himself as he worked, stirring the pot occasionally and damn pleased with himself for the effort.

But, when he heard Maurice get up, he turned, raising an eyebrow at him as he entered the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand, and he pointed at him with it, serious. "Hey! I thought I told you to stay in bed! You sound like you're dying again."

The vampire blinked sluggishly and looked down at the spoon.

"Wh...ooooh. Oh. Sorry." He looked down at what he could see of his feet. "At least...at least I'm not hexed, right? It could be worse."

He had gotten lonely.

Hanna had some sympathy, his spoon still pointed at him, but, soon enough he set it down. He paused a moment, considering before he nodded for Maurice to sit down, "At least get off your feet okay? I Can get you a blanket for out here and maybe we can watch something while you eat, huh?" He dipped his spoon in his wizardy brew and took a sip, pleasantly surprised, and checked the recipe he had written down one last time before confirming that it was done. Mrs. Hutch really was a gem if she could help him make something that tasted good without supervision.

He grabbed two bowls, figuring that if he put the effort in, he wanted to sample more too, and filled them. "You want anything to drink?"

He sat down after some awkward fumbling because in his stupor he couldn't remember how to scoot a chair and just sort of nosily dragged it out away from the table. Maurice was by no means a creature of grace but he was at least usually more coordinated than this.

"I'd like that. And um." He eyed the fridge. "Coffee...or. No. Just hot water. Tea. That's hot water." He struggled to think and propped his head on his hand. Ugh, he felt like an old VCR. He tugged the bowl toward him once it had been filled and stared at the spoon he'd been supplied with.

Oh, god, he wasn't sure he could use that properly without flinging soup everywhere. Instead, Maurice just carefully picked up the bowl and sipped from it, enjoying the warmth against his hands. He continued to rasp, but it was a relieved rasp. He was amazed that while he was so feverish, something warm inside really helped.

"Hanna, this is so good." He put the bowl down and breathed in its scent, finally getting a proper whiff. "It's like Mom makes. I didn't know you made soup!"

Hanna almost laughed, Maurice trying to form sentences was cute, even if it was kind of hurting his heart that he was so discombobulated. "Don't hurt yourself, I'll get you some tea." And, wandering to find the previous mug he had used back in the bedroom, he brought it back out and heated up some water in the microwave.

He would be lying if he said he wasn't eagerly watching Maurice take his first few sips of soup. And, at he praise, he beamed. "W-well...It kind of is her recipe. She gave it to me over the phone. I figured it'd help a little. A taste of home." The microwave beeps, and Hanna digs a box of tea out of the grocery bag that was sitting on the counter, Echinachea and lemon that claimed it did wonders for sore throats and sickness on the side of the box. It smelled like heaven, so Hanna had to at least give it points for that if it didn't work. "I think it's supposed to steep like, five minutes, so wait on it a bit." He'll warn him before pulling up the chair next to him, looking at him curiously.

He didn't look much better than he had before, but if he got him to fall asleep on the couch while watching something, then perhaps they'd see more progress. "How do you feel?"

"It is?" He processed this slowly as Hanna went bustling around to make him some tea. By the time the redhead sat back down, Maurice had tears in his eyes. Or maybe they were just leaking because he was sick. He fought his way through a hideous cough so that he could speak again. "You went through all--all the trouble to get my mom's recipe and then made it just so I would feel better!"

No, those were real tears. He dragged a hand under his nose and made another disgusting sound.

"Ah luhv you so much, Hanna."

"Wait, are you crying?" Of all the things, Hanna hadn't expected that. A thank you yes, a big hug maybe, but not tears. Though perhaps he should have, he's seen the vampire cry over sillier things when he was happy. "It wasn't any trouble to call your mom, she's like, the perfect lady, okay?" Maurice's dad was a lucky man, serious.

"You're going to dehydrate yourself, crying like that," he teases, not caring much that he was making gross noises as he cried, but leaning towards him regardless and wrapping his arms around him in a hug, "Love you too, Maury."

Now he just needed to eat his soup so they could cuddle on the couch till Maurice fell asleep again. Then he'd feel like an accomplished caregiver.

"No!" said Maurice who was still crying. He leaned into the hug and managed to avoid making Hanna's ribs creak. It was unclear whether he was just getting better at controlling his strength or if the cold was kicking his ass that hard.

"Okay." Once he calmed down, he ate his soup in silence, savoring the flavor and letting the heat do its job in opening up his nose and throat. Finally he pushed his empty bowl forward and coughed a few times. "Thanks, Hanna. That was perfect."

He's thankful for that, but it's a little unclear to him either which one it is. He's hoping it was the first rather than the second.

Eating his own helping, Hanna was pleasantly surprised in his own work, knowing that the instructions he was following was by the best lady in the world, but figuring he might fuck it up some how regardless. "There's more if you want some," He offers when Maurice is done, and he even gets up to get him more in case he wants it, "Or I can get you some more medicine...has it been eight hours? Probably not.." He glances at the clock, trying to remember when he had given him the NyQuil. Definitely not eight hours.

"We should save it for later tonight...today? Todaynight. Whenever dinner is. This is brekfust." He blinked wearily at the blanketed windows and then tried to find the microwave in search of the clock. No good. The screen was just a glowy green blob for him. "You know, I think I might wait a little while before takin' another dose."

He stood, too exhausted to collect his bowl and put it in the sink. Instead he left that to Hanna and trundled his way over to the sofa where he sank down onto it. Maurice leaned heavily against the arm, thankful to have something that could prop him up and was soft at the same time.

"I can't even remember the last time I was sick. This is so stupid. I should be takin' care of you."

"Whenever you feel up to eating again," He offered, picking up their dishes and setting them in the sink. He considers the soup, the burner off, but he'd have to wait for it to cool more before putting it in the fridge. That'd take a while.

Turning back around from his pondering, he's glad Maurice has made his way to the couch, picking up his tea cup and bringing it with, setting it to the side in case he wanted it. "You always take care of me. And I can't all that often since you don't need someone to come save you from a fight." He has a scar on his nose now, hidden by his new pair of glasses, but if it weren't for Maurice he could easily say it could have been much worse than a slightly crooked nose and a small mark.

"Unless it's spiders and sickness, I guess. So if that's where I come in to be the big hero, I'm totally fine with it." He'll sit right next to Maurice and shift, leaning against him as he leaned against the arm of the sofa, "Time to let me be the big, strong guy in shining armor, huh?"

When Hanna sat down, Maurice lifted a heavy arm to put it around him. "You c'n save me from all the spiders. Every spider." He drew in a deep, raspy breath, Hanna's soup was doing some good since he didn't sound like he was talking through bubblegum. "Fuck spiders. Why are there even spiders? Don't answer that. It probably has soomethum...something to do with th' circle of life."

He shifted and turned so that he could bring his other hand around and pat Hanna on the face with the flat of his palm.

"I beat the circle of life. I'm dead. Deeeeeeead." He leaned his neck down and found to his dismay that Hanna's face was too far way to kiss. "Help me."

He had seemed fine earlier, but it seems the less groggy Maurice got, the more loopy he got. He is suddenly very thankful to himself for having bought the pill form of NyQuil on his grocery trip, and would be dispensing them personally rather than handing them over. It was a weird thought, having to do so, but he supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised. This is Maurice, he's told him of when he'd done worse, has seen him at worse, so he supposes it was just good that he had done it when he actually needed the medication.

"You're undead, there is a difference. I don't kiss strictly dead people, and you're not a corpse." He said as calmly as he could back without grinning like a moron, "Should I kiss you? I mean, you're sick. I don't want to get your cooties." He's just being an ass, "Do you reaaaaaally want one?"

"I dooo!" He shoved his elbow against the sofa arm and leaned up and stretched his short neck down as far as he could, making kissy lips. He wanted to smooch Hanna on his airplane runway of a forehead. "Please, please!"

Hanna snorts, unable to keep it in with how ridiculous Maurice is being, and pushes himself up, leaning the extra few inches needed to kiss those ridiculous lips. "You are a huge dork, and you should be ashamed."

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