Chapter Text
It's evening when Nurse Sarah comes in with a shower chair and tells Jess he's cleared to shower.
She holds up a finger. "With supervision."
Jess deflates. "Of course."
Luke straightens.
The nurse smiles like she's had this conversation all day. "Hospital policy. You're still recovering. First shower isn't solo. Someone stays close, door open. No tough guy antics."
Jess looks between her and Luke. "You mean him?"
Luke crosses his arms. "I'm standing right here."
"You don't shower with people," Jess says flatly.
"No one said anything about showering with you," Luke snaps, instantly defensive. "I'm supervising. Fully clothed. Shoes on."
Jess doesn't argue. Arguing takes energy he doesn't have.
"Alright," Sarah says, all business. "Let's get you up."
Jess swings his legs off the bed, pushes to standing. The room tilts immediately.
He grabs the bedrail.
Luke's hand is already at his elbow. Not tight. Just there.
"Easy," Luke says.
"I'm fine," Jess mutters.
"Didn't say you weren't." Luke doesn't let go. "Just don't rush it."
It's only ten feet to the bathroom but it feels like more. Everything feels like more at night—the exhaustion sits heavier, the dizziness comes faster.
Sarah walks beside him. Luke hovers on his other side, hands ready.
Halfway there, Jess's knees wobble. Luke's hand shoots out, catches his elbow, steadies him.
"You good?" Luke asks.
Jess nods, frustrated. "Yeah."
They make it the rest of the way. Sarah wheels the shower chair inside, adjusts it. Tests the grab bars.
"Alright, Jess. You sit here." She pats the chair. "Keep the water warm, not hot—we don't want your blood pressure dropping. You feel lightheaded or dizzy at all, you tell Luke right away. Understand?"
Jess nods.
She turns to Luke. "Door stays open. You stay in here—by the sink works. Keep an eye on him. If he looks unsteady, if his breathing changes, anything seems off—you call me immediately."
"Got it," Luke says.
Sarah looks back at Jess. Her voice is firm but not unkind. "I know you've been doing better, but you're still recovering. Your body's been through a lot. Don't push it."
"I won't."
She doesn't look convinced. "Make sure he doesn't," she tells Luke.
"I'll be at the nurses' station if you need me."
When she leaves, Luke and Jess just stand there for a beat. The bathroom suddenly feels smaller.
"You heard what she said?" Luke asks pointedly.
"Yeah, I heard what she said," Jess mutters, still catching his breath.
Luke studies him for a second, then nods. Clears his throat. "Alright. So. Uh. I'm gonna—" He turns around completely, facing the sink. Stares at the wall tiles like they're fascinating.
Jess fumbles with the gown ties. His fingers don't cooperate—clumsy, disconnected. The ties are knotted somehow and he can't get them loose.
He struggles for a few seconds. Fails.
"You need—" Luke starts, still facing the wall.
"No!" Jess says too fast. He tries again. Finally gets one tie loose. Then the other. Lets the gown fall, grabs the towel, wraps it around his waist. His hands shake the whole time. He positions the washcloth, lowers himself onto the shower chair.
The bench. The rail. The door that won't close all the way.
He hates all of it.
"Okay," he says.
Luke turns on the water without looking. Tests the temperature with his hand. Steps back to the sink.
Jess stares at the cracked door. At Luke standing three feet away, determinedly studying the ceiling.
"You can leave now," he says.
Luke raises an eyebrow. "Can't. Hospital policy."
"I'm not gonna fall over."
"Didn't say you were." Luke crosses his arms. "Just following orders."
Jess scowls but doesn't push it.
The water hits Jess's shoulders. For thirty seconds it actually helps. The heat loosens something in his chest. Makes breathing easier.
Then the steam builds thick. The edges blur.
And suddenly he's not here anymore.
He's thirteen. Freezing bathroom in a basement apartment. Water trickling cold from a shower that never worked right. Soap slipping through fingers too numb to grip.
Getting dizzy. The room tilting. Sitting down hard on cracked tile, waiting for it to stop.
No one ever came to see if he was ok.
Jess blinks hard. Focuses on the heat. On now.
"You fall asleep in there?" Luke calls over the water.
Luke's standing by the sink. Solid. Real.
"I'm fine!"
"Yeah, well. You yell if you fall over or start drowning."
"I'm not drowning."
"Great. Let's keep it that way."
Jess reaches for the soap.
It slips.
Clatters against the tile.
Jess leans forward automatically. The room spins. His vision tunnels. He freezes, one hand braced against the wall, the other gripping the washcloth.
Not now. Not over soap.
He stares at it sitting there. Considers just leaving it. But he can't reach it without leaning forward again.
He closes his eyes. Exhales hard through his nose.
"Luke?"
"Yeah?" Immediate. Like Luke was waiting for it.
Jess swallows. "I dropped—" His jaw tightens. "Can you get it?"
Luke doesn't hesitate. Rolls up his sleeve, steps over, crouches. Grabs the soap without looking. Hands it to Jess and steps back.
"Thanks."
"Yeah."
Luke returns to his post.
Jess sits there under the spray. The steam is everywhere. His mind drifts again—back to freezing bathrooms, to being thirteen and sick with no one checking. To handling it alone.
"Hey." Luke's voice cuts through. "You still with me?"
Jess blinks. "What?"
"You got quiet."
"I'm showering."
"You okay?"
"I'm fine!!"
Luke doesn't believe him. But he doesn't push.
Jess tries to stand to rinse off. His legs don't cooperate.
The dizziness hits fast. He grabs for the rail but his grip fails. His knees buckle.
"Luke—"
Luke's there. Catches his arm, steadies him back onto the bench. Shuts off the water.
"You're okay." Not a question. A fact.
Jess's breathing is ragged. His hands shake. The washcloth slips and he scrambles to adjust it, face burning.
Luke grabs a towel, drapes it over Jess's shoulders. Rubs warmth back into his arms—quick, practical.
Jess sways again.
"Sit." Luke pulls the shower chair closer. Not a suggestion.
Jess doesn't argue. Just sits. Breathing hard. Damp hair dripping.
Luke presses another towel into Jess's hands.
Jess slumps in the chair, spent. His head drops forward, chin nearly to chest. Too tired to even lift it.
"Take a minute," Luke says.
Luke reaches out, adjusts the towel around Jess's shoulders. His hand rests there for a moment, then drops.
Jess hates the way his body won't stop shaking. Fine tremors in his hands, his teeth chattering like he's been standing outside in snow.
Luke notices. Wraps another towel around him. "Adrenaline. It'll pass."
"Dizzy still?"
"Getting better."
Luke nods. Waits. Doesn't rush him.
The silence stretches. The hospital hums around them—distant voices, machines beeping somewhere down the hall.
Eventually Jess's breathing evens out. The shaking stops.
"Can you stand?"
Jess tests his legs. "Yeah."
The walk back to bed is harder than the shower. Luke keeps a hand at his back—steady, matter-of-fact. Jess moves slow. Luke matches his pace. Doesn't rush him.
By the time Jess's under the blankets, the exhaustion hits all at once.
Luke adjusts the blanket. Pours fresh water. Settles back into his chair—closer than before.
For a while neither of them speaks.
Then Jess says it. Quietly. "Thanks."
Luke's staring at his hands. "Yeah."
Outside, the night presses against the window. Inside, the lamp casts its warm circle of light.
Jess's eyes drift shut. His breathing slows.
And for the first time, falling asleep doesn't feel like letting his guard down.
It just feels like rest.
***
The next morning after drinking some water and fending off Luke’s assistance so he can go to the bathroom on his own, Jess picks up one of the books Rory left for him.
Within 5 minutes of trying to read, the words are swimming on the page.
Luke notices how Jess scowls, his brow creasing in frustration.
He shifts uncomfortably and snaps the book shut within 5 minutes.
“What’s wrong?” Luke asks, his tone casual. Although isn’t it obvious? He’s pushing himself too soon.
Jess sighs. “Nothing,” he says quietly under his breath, “Just... can’t concentrate.”
Luke leans forward, annoyed, but he doesn’t scold.
“How many times do I have to tell you. You’re getting over an illness. Maybe give it a rest?”
Jess frowns, clearly frustrated. “It’s a book. I read all the time. It shouldn’t be this hard.”
Luke doesn’t push further, sensing his nephew’s irritation, but picks up the book and sets it on the bedside table.
“It’s not a race, Jess. You’ll get there. Just focus on getting better.”
Jess scowls but doesn’t argue, leaning back against the pillows.
“You’re really good at this hovering thing, you know that?”
Luke smirks. “It’s a skill.”
Breakfast shows up looking vaguely threatening.
Jess doesn’t touch it.
The nurse checks his temperature anyway, practiced and unfazed. It’s still elevated — not enough to alarm anyone, but not normal yet either.
Heading in the right direction.
Jess doesn’t argue. He just stares at the tray.
“Doctor wants to see you eating solid food,” the nurse says before she leaves.
crosses his arms and nods toward the tray. “Eat, Jess.” Jess glares at Luke, then shifts his gaze to the eggs and toast.
“Fine. But if I die, it’s on you.”
“You want me to get you something from the cafeteria?” Luke asks, feeling like he needs to spoil the boy in order to get him to eat. Jess doesn’t answer, but he scowls and pokes at the eggs with a fork, taking a tentative bite. He makes a face. “Happy now?” Luke smirks faintly but doesn’t reply. He watches Jess take another bite, his satisfaction barely hidden.
The nurse comes back and the pills come next. Antibiotics. With food. The nurse doesn’t soften it. She sets them down and waits.
Jess exhales through his nose, sharp. He takes a bite because they’re still watching and because it’s easier than turning this into a thing.
He chews slowly, jaw tight, like he’s daring his body to reject it.
It doesn’t.
He swallows. Takes another bite. Not because it’s good.
Because stopping would mean admitting something he’s not ready to say.
Luke doesn’t comment. Doesn’t push. He just stays there, solid and quiet, like this is exactly how he expected it to go.
The nurse finishes checking the monitors, scribbles something down, tells Jess he’s doing fine — says it lightly, like she means it.
Jess opens his mouth to respond, probably something ungrateful —
Dr. Reynolds walks in.
"Morning, Jess. Luke." He doesn’t have his usual interns following him — and for once he seems more relaxed, like he’s got time. He pulls up a nearby stool, settles in. "How are you feeling today?"
Jess shrugs. "Tired. But... better, I guess."
"Better is good." Dr. Reynolds scans the chart, nods to himself. "Your fever's been gone for at least 24 hours now. That's excellent progress."
Jess doesn't say anything. Just waits.
"Mind if I take a listen?" Dr. Reynolds pulls out his stethoscope. "Sit up for me."
Jess shifts forward. The doctor listens carefully—front, back, sides. Takes his time. When he's done, he steps back with a nod, though not quite as satisfied as before.
"Lungs are clear. No signs of secondary infection." He checks Jess's pupils with a penlight. "Any headaches?"
"Yeah," Jess admits. "Sometimes. Not constant, but..."
Luke straightens. "You didn't mention headaches."
Jess shrugs. "It's not a big deal."
"Scale of one to ten?" Dr. Reynolds asks.
"Five? Six sometimes."
The doctor makes a note. "That's expected with the kind of fevers you had. Could last another week or two. Dizziness?"
"Yeah. When I stand up. When I've been moving around."
"How's your stamina? Walking to the bathroom, that kind of thing?"
Jess hesitates. "I get tired pretty fast."
"Fast meaning...?"
"Like, I walk to the bathroom and back and I need to sit down."
Dr. Reynolds nods, writing. "That's normal for where you are. Your body's been fighting a severe infection for over a week. You're going to be weak for a while." He sets down his clipboard. "You keeping food down okay? No nausea?"
"Food's fine. Just... don't have much appetite."
"That'll come back gradually." Dr. Reynolds crosses his arms, considering. "When you came in, you had a 105-degree fever, severe dehydration, Influenza A hitting you hard. Fevers that high for that long—we worry about pneumonia, secondary bacterial infections, organ stress. The first seventy-two hours were touch and go."
Luke swallows hard, remembering how sick Jess was that first night.
The doctor pauses. "Your fever's been stable for at least 24 hours. Labs are trending in the right direction. Lungs stayed clear. You're tolerating oral medications and keeping fluids down. Those are the benchmarks we need to see before discharge."
"Discharge?” Jess gapes, “Does that mean I can go home?”
"You can go home," Dr. Reynolds says carefully. "But let me be clear—you're not fully recovered. You're stable. There's a difference." He looks at Luke. "He's going to need close monitoring. He'll tire easily, probably sleep more than usual. The headaches and dizziness will persist for a bit. He needs to finish the full course of antivirals, stay hydrated, rest. No school for at least another week, probably two."
“You’re still weak. You’re still going to feel wiped out. You stand up too fast, you’ll get dizzy. You push yourself, you’ll set yourself back.” His gaze flicks to Luke briefly, then back to Jess. “But medically, you can finish recovering at home.”
Jess’s mouth opens, closes. “Today?”
“This afternoon,” Dr. Reynolds says. “Assuming nothing changes in the next few hours.”
He turns back to Jess. "If your fever spikes again—anything over 101—you come back immediately. Severe headache, difficulty breathing, chest pain, confusion—you come back. Understand?"
Jess nods.
"I mean it," Dr. Reynolds says. "Flu can relapse. Your immune system is depleted. You're vulnerable right now." He looks at Luke again. "He'll need supervision. Someone making sure he takes his meds on schedule, drinks enough fluids, doesn't try to do too much too fast.”
Great, Jess thinks. A babysitter.
Luke nods, serious. "Understood."
Dr. Reynolds continues. “Fluids. Real food. Finish the antibiotics even when you start feeling better and decide you don’t need them.”
Jess mutters, “I wouldn’t—”
“You would,” Dr. Reynolds cuts in calmly. “Teenagers always do.”
Luke’s mouth twitches despite himself.
Jess nods like he’s agreeing to a contract he didn’t read.
Luke nods like he memorized the contract.
Dr. Reynolds glances at Luke. “Nurse will bring the next dose with lunch, and we’ll get the paperwork started.” He pauses. “Luke, can I speak with you for a minute outside?”
Jess’s brow furrows immediately. “Why?” Is there something they’re not telling hin?
Dr. Reynolds offers a calm smile, like he’s used to this kind of thing. “Standard follow-up,” Dr. Reynolds says easily. “Nothing to worry about.”
Jess doesn’t look convinced. He leans back, jaw tight. “Great.”
Luke stands. “I’ll be right back.” He follows Dr. Reynolds into the hall and the door clicks softly behind them.
Jess stares at it.
Going home.
Should feel like a win. And part of him is relieved—getting out of here, away from the machines and the needles and nurses checking on him every few hours like he might stop breathing if they look away too long.
But mostly he just feels tired.
And guilty.
Luke's got a diner to run. Not a sick teenager to babysit.
He's already been here a week. Sleeping in a chair. Eating vending machine food. Watching Jess struggle to shower without passing out.
Now he gets to take that home with him.
Close supervision. Medication schedules. Making sure he rests.
Great.
Luke didn't take him in so he could play nurse. He took him in because Liz couldn't handle it anymore and someone had to. That was the deal. Jess stays out of trouble, goes to school, works at the diner.
Not this.
Not lying around the apartment too weak to do anything, needing help with everything, being one more problem Luke has to fix.
Jess looks at his hands. Still shaking. Still useless.
He can't even stand up without getting dizzy.
Real helpful.
Luke's gonna get home, realize what he's actually signed up for, and start doing the math on how long until Jess is functional again. Start resenting every medication reminder, every time Jess needs to sit down after walking ten feet, every meal he can barely finish.
That's how it works. People get tired of taking care of you.
***
“Luke,” Dr. Reynolds says, his tone calm but professional, “You have a minute to go over a few things before we finalize Jess’s discharge?” He holds Jess’s file in his hand.
“Yeah, sure. What’s left to cover?”
Dr. Reynolds is serious, but not alarmist. “First, I want to say Jess is making good progress physically. His vitals are stable, his strength is improving, and he’s met the criteria for discharge. That said, there are a couple of concerns I feel obligated to address.”
Luke’s posture stiffens. “What kind of concerns?”
The doctor’s gaze is direct but calm. “The nurse mentioned Jess had a few panic attacks during his stay. They weren’t medically dangerous in the end, but they were significant enough to be documented. Given his history…” Dr. Reynolds pauses, choosing his words carefully, “…and the information in his file, I thought it was important to make you aware.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” Luke says matter-of-factly.
“And the history?” the doctor asks.
“Ok, what history?” Luke asks, even though he knows all about it. He just doesn’t want to give away Jess’s privacy or allude to anything before he hears what’s in the medical records.
“You reported when he was first admitted that he’s prone to panic attacks,” Dr. Reynolds explains. “And he’s had more while he’s been here.” He hesitates but continues, “There’s limited information, but from what we have—his records indicate inconsistent medical care, likely due to instability at home. His mother is listed as his primary contact, but she hasn’t been here, as you know... That’s something I think we should acknowledge.”
Luke exhales sharply, running a hand down his face. He likes Dr. Reynolds, but he’s still guarded about the situation and protective of his nephew. “I’m the one that’s taking care of him for now. Liz…my sister…isn’t… reliable,” he admits grudgingly. “And Jess doesn’t exactly open up about that kind of stuff. What does this have to do with the panic attacks?”
Dr. Reynolds’s expression softens slightly. “Panic attacks can be triggered by many factors—stress, exhaustion, or a sense of loss of control, which makes sense given Jess’s recent illness,” he pauses for a minute, “But they can also stem from a history of emotional stress or trauma, especially if that stress hasn’t been properly addressed.”
Luke’s eyes narrow. “What are you saying? That this is all in his head?”
“Not at all,” Dr. Reynolds replies, his tone firm but empathetic. “What I’m saying is that Jess’s recovery isn’t just physical. He’s clearly been through a lot, and it’s not uncommon for someone in his position, someone who’s spent a long time feeling like they have to fend for themselves, to struggle with accepting help or acknowledging weakness.”
Luke nods slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”
“So I just want to make sure he’s being taken care of while he’s recovering at home,” the doctor says. Then he shifts slightly, rethinking what he wants to say. “Look, I’m not a mental health professional and this isn’t a neurological unit, but I do think it’s worth considering outside support for Jess as he recovers — therapy, counseling, something to give him a space to work through whatever he’s carrying,” he says slowly, “It’s not something you have to push immediately, but planting the idea now could make a difference down the line.”
Luke glances toward Jess’s room, his brow furrowed. “I don’t think he’ll go for that.” He says matter-of-factly.
Dr. Reynolds offers a faint smile. “Honestly? Probably not at first. But having someone he trusts bring it up might help. And it looks you’ve shown him he can trust you.” Luke gives him a small smile. “In the meantime, I’d suggest keeping an eye on him. If you notice any more panic attacks, or signs that he’s withdrawing or struggling emotionally, don’t hesitate to reach out for help.”
Luke nods, but he’s uncomfortable. It sounds like Dr. Reynolds is coming from a good place, though.
Dr. Reynold’s tone is careful but direct in the next sentence. “Luke, I noticed in Jess’s file that there isn’t any insurance information listed. It’s not really my place to comment on this, but there are a couple of things you should consider.”
Luke frowns, his arms crossing instinctively. “Like what?”
Dr. Reynolds continues, his voice steady. “First, it means any follow-up care — whether that’s physical check-ups, therapy, or even the continuation of medications — might need to be planned through local resources that don’t rely on traditional insurance. That’s something our social work department can help you with.”
Luke scowls, “I’m getting him insurance,” he says haltingly, “It just won’t cover the hospital stay itself.”
Dr. Reynolds pulls out a small card from his clipboard and hands it over. “Our case manager specializes in helping families navigate situations like this. They can help set you up with monthly payments for the hospital bill. They can also connect you to sliding-scale clinics, free programs, and other resources that can help with ongoing costs and cover Jess’s needs.”
Luke glances at the card.
“This is all confidential, right? Jess doesn’t need to know all the details?”
Dr. Reynolds nods. “Absolutely. They’re here to make this easier, not harder. You’ve done a great job getting him through the tough part. This just helps make sure the rest goes smoothly.
Luke nods, though the weight of the situation is clearly settling on him. “Yeah, okay.” Suddenly his jaw tightens. “You’re not discharging him early because he doesn’t have insurance right?” he asks suddenly. “Because if that’s the case and he needs to stay longer, I’ll find a way to —“
Dr. Reynolds cuts him off. "His white count is back to normal, inflammatory markers are down. He’s stable. And honestly, he'll do better at home—familiar environment, his own bed, less stress. As long as he has somewhere quiet to recover."
“Yeah, he’s got that,” Luke answers.
Dr. Reynolds extends a hand. “You’re doing right by him, Luke. And for what it’s worth, I think he’s lucky to have someone looking out for him.”
Luke shakes his hand and tucks the card into his pocket, his voice gruff but appreciative. “Thanks, Doc.”
***
The door opens.
Luke steps back in.
“Alright, you ready to get outta here?”
Jess looks up. "So I'm actually going?"
"Well not yet. In a few hours. Soon as the paperwork's filed." Luke's voice has that gruff edge that means he's trying not to show he's relieved. "You heard the doc. You're stable enough."
"Stable enough," Jess repeats. "That's a ringing endorsement."
"It's better than 'we're keeping you another week.'" Luke crosses his arms. "Take the win."
Jess stares at the blanket for a second, then up at Luke. "So. Guess I'm getting evicted."
Luke snorts. "Yeah. You're a real nuisance. Lying there, eating hospital food, not complaining nearly enough."
"I complained plenty."
"Not about the eggs. Those eggs deserved more complaints."
Despite himself, Jess almost smiles. Almost.
Then the weight of it settles back in.
Luke's apartment. Luke's life. Luke playing babysitter because Jess can't even stand up without getting dizzy.
Luke must see it on his face because his expression shifts. Less amused. More serious.
"What?" Luke asks.
"Nothing."
"Jess."
Jess looks away. "You've got a diner to run. Not a—" He stops. Tries again. "This wasn't part of the deal. Taking me in. You didn't sign up for... this." He gestures vaguely at himself in the bed.
Luke's quiet for a beat. Then: "What deal? There’s no deal."
"You know what I mean."
"No, I don't." Luke pulls the chair closer, sits. "Say it."
Jess's jaw tightens. "You took me in because Liz couldn't handle me anymore. Not because you wanted to play nurse."
"You're right," Luke says. Flat. Direct.
There it is.
Luke puts his hands on his hips, like he does when he wants to say something practical. He wants to explain it's not about Jess, never was about Jess—it's about Liz, about her screwing up so bad her kid needed an exit. But saying that out loud feels like throwing his sister under a bus he's already been hit by enough times.
"I didn't take you in to play nurse," Luke continues. "I took you in because you're my nephew and you needed somewhere to go. And now you're sick. So yeah, things look different than they did a month ago." He leans forward slightly. "But that doesn't change anything."
"It changes everything," Jess mutters.
"How?"
"Because—" Jess stops. His hands curl into fists on the blanket. "Because I'm gonna be useless. Can't go to school. Can't work. Can't do anything except sit around your apartment being one more thing you have to deal with."
Luke's expression doesn't change. "So?"
"So you've got a business to run. A life. You don't have time to—"
"I'll make time," Luke cuts him off. Voice firm. "That's what you do."
Jess looks at him. Searching for the catch. The hesitation. The resentment that's gotta be there.
Luke just looks back. Steady.
“You’re coming home, Jess. Stop making it complicated.”
Jess stares after him.
Home.
Luke said it like it was obvious. Like there was never any question.
Jess doesn't know what to do with that.
***
Amy steps in with her usual upbeat demeanor. "Good morning, Jess! Ready for the grand finale?
Jess, sitting up in bed with his arms crossed, glares at her. "Define 'grand.’”
"A walk down the hall and back. Just want to make sure you’re mobile enough to go home. I hear you’re leaving us today.” She grabs her clipboard. "Last chance to enjoy our excellent hallway scenery."
Jess sighs. "Do I have a choice?"
"Not really," Amy replies cheerfully.
Luke helps Jess into his robe and slippers. Jess swings his legs over the side of the bed, gripping the edge to steady himself.
Luke straightens up. "I gotta make some calls. Arrangements and stuff." He looks at Amy. "You got him?"
"We're good," Amy says.
Luke glances at Jess. "Don't fall down."
"I'll try to contain myself," Jess mutters.
***
Luke heads downstairs. He calls Lorelai first.
"Hey," he says.
"Luke! Please tell me you're calling with good news because Caesar just told me we're out of coffee and I need you to know I'm considering a hostile takeover.”
"They're discharging Jess this afternoon."
"What? Luke, that's amazing!" Her voice goes genuinely warm. "I mean, not that you guys wouldn’t love to spend another minute in that delightful room with its fluorescent ambiance and its —
“Lorelai —“ he cuts her off.
“That's really great, Luke,” she says with a smile in her voice, “Do you need any help? I can bring the Jeep, help you guys haul stuff, be the designated uncomfortable silence filler on the ride home—"
"No, we're good. Thanks." He pauses. "I just... when we get back, I hope the whole town making a big deal out of it."
"Ah. You want to avoid the Stars Hollow Welcome Wagon."
"Something like that. He doesn't need Kirk offering medical advice."
“So I guess the impromptu conga line near the gazebo is out of the question. I was gonna get my pom poms out of the trunk and do some kicks —“
“Lorelai!” Luke cuts her off again, “How are you like this even without coffee?”
“Oh ho! Not for long if don’t get some of that sweet sweet caffeine —
"How can we be out of coffee already? Caesar told me he refilled it yesterday."
Well, apparently we drank it all. And maybe Miss Patty had four refills. And Babette kept saying she needed 'just one more cup' before Morey's band practice. The point is, your inventory system is deeply flawed."
"There's backup in the storage closet. Second shelf, behind the napkins."
"Luke, you're my hero. Caesar!" she calls away from the phone. "Second shelf, behind the napkins!" Then back to Luke: "Crisis averted. So what time are you guys heading back?"
"Couple hours, probably. Soon as the paperwork's done."
“I can tell Caesar to close up early?”
“No, don’t do that…he probably needs the money.”
"Okay. I'll see you when you get here.”
"Thanks, Lorelai."
***
He hangs up. Shakes his head slightly. She really should be at the inn today, but instead she's at the diner. Again. Hopefully not for much longer.
He calls Caesar next, keeps it short—just checking the schedule, making sure things are covered. Then he stops by the cafeteria, grabs a pre-wrapped sandwich that looks only slightly tragic and a Coke.
On the way back, he runs into Amy in the hallway.
"He did really well," she says, adjusting her clipboard. "Made it all the way down and back. Had to rest at the nurse's station for a minute, but that's completely normal."
Luke nods.
"You can tell he's still weak though. A little dizzy. He won't admit it, of course." She gives Luke a knowing look. "I think you'll be fine on your own at home. Just don't let him push himself too hard. If you feel like he needs a follow-up PT session once he's out of here, call us and we'll set something up."
"Alright. Thanks."
Amy heads off, and Luke continues to the room.
When he pushes the door open, Jess is out cold. He's lying on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other hanging off the edge of the bed. His mouth is slightly open, face slack in a way that makes him look younger than 16. The walk clearly wiped him out.
Luke sets the sandwich and Coke on the bedside table as quietly as he can manage.
Then he starts packing. Jess's books—four of them, all dog-eared and marked up with pencil notes in the margins - Rory’s handwriting, not Jess’s. His jacket. The spare clothes Luke brought earlier in the week. A few crumpled receipts and scraps of paper covered in more handwriting. Luke smooths them out, tucks them into one of the books.
There are coffee cups scattered around, all half-empty and cold. Luke gathers them up, tosses them in the trash. A sweatshirt draped over the chair. Jess's boots under the bed.
He folds everything carefully, packs it into a backpack he brought from home.
The sound of the zipper makes Jess stir. His eyes open partway, unfocused.
"Packing me up already?"
"You're getting sprung in a couple hours," Luke says. "Figured I'd get started."
"How thoughtful."
Luke picks up the sandwich, holds it up slightly. "Got you this. It's not great, but it's better than what they've been feeding you."
Jess eyes it without enthusiasm. "That's not saying much."
"No," Luke agrees. "It's not."
Jess shifts slightly, like he's thinking about sitting up, then decides against it. "What time is it?"
"Around eleven. They said you should be getting discharged around one, maybe two.”
Jess nods slowly, eyes already drifting closed again.
Luke studies him for a beat as he seems to fight to keep them open.
“You can close your eyes for a bit,” he says simply. “We’ve got time.”
Jess doesn’t answer, just exhales and lets his eyes shut.
Luke keeps folding.
***
They help him change out of the hospital gown and into a black hoodie and sweatpants. Dr. Reynolds arrives shortly after to give final instructions and sign off on the paperwork.
"Remember," Dr. Reynolds says, "plenty of rest, stay hydrated, and finish all your antibiotics. Any fever or worsening symptoms, call me immediately."
Jess nods, clearly eager to leave. And it’s nice that his favorite nurse Sarah is the one that’s going to be sending him. When Sarah brings in a wheelchair, however, he scowls.
"You have got to be kidding me," Jess grumbles.
"Hospital policy," the nurse says cheerfully. "Everyone gets the royal treatment on their way out." Luke smirks. "Look at it this way - it's probably the only time you'll get to order someone around while they push you."
Jess rolls his eyes but allows Luke to help him into the chair. As Sarah wheels him towards the exit, Luke notices how Jess's fingers grip the armrests tightly, his face paler than usual with the exertion of simply sitting up.
At the hospital entrance, Luke goes to bring the truck around while Sarah waits with Jess.
"Take care of yourself, Jess," Sarah says warmly. "And remember, it's okay to let people help sometimes."
Jess nods, managing a small "Thanks" as Luke pulls up.
Getting Jess into the truck proves challenging. He's weaker than he wants to admit, and Luke has to practically lift him into the seat.
Once settled, Jess leans back, eyes closed, clearly exhausted even by the short journey.
As Luke climbs into the driver's seat, he glances at Jess. "Ready to get outta here?”
Jess opens his eyes, a mix of relief and apprehension in his gaze. "Yeah," he says softly and smiles at Luke. “Finally. Let’s go.”
It’s a 30 minute drive back to Stars Hollow. Funny, the car ride to the hospital felt a lot shorter for Luke — 20 minutes at most — but then, it was the middle of the night and Jess had a 105 fever, so his uncle had basically run through every red light.
The vibration of the vehicle and steady hum of the engine makes Jess fall asleep. He tries to fight it at first, but his eyelids grow heavy and his head gradually tilts towards the window. Within minutes, he’s out, his body slumped against the door, forehead pressed against the cool glass.
Luke pulls his truck up near the diner, cutting the engine. The place is packed — lunch rush in full swing. Of course it is.
It seems his being away for days has done nothing to hinder his business, thanks to Caesar and Lorelai. But it’s the first time he wishes it wasn’t so full. He looks over at Jess and reaches across to shake his shoulder until he stirs.
“Hey,” Luke says. “We’re home.”
Jess blinks, sitting up slowly, taking in the familiar sight through the windshield.
“You ok to walk?” Luke asks.
Jess nods weakly, fumbling with his seatbelt.
Luke’s already out of the truck, coming around to help without making it a thing. Jess steps down carefully, a little slower than he’d like. Luke supports him automatically, steadying him with a hand at his elbow.
“We’ll go around back,” Luke says like it’s nothing. “Skip the circus.”
Jess’s shoulders ease almost immediately.
They make their way slowly toward the rear entrance. Jess falls a half-step behind, his pace heavier than usual. Luke doesn’t comment. Just slows down.
As they reach the door, Luke pauses.
“Hang on.”
He cracks it open, takes a quick look inside at the chaos, then nods once and pulls it wider.
“Alright.”
Luke cracks the door open, scanning the kitchen. Caesar is busy at the grill, his back turned. Luke gestures for Jess to follow, guiding him through quickly towards the curtained doorway leading to the stairs.
Just as they're about to slip through, Caesar turns. "Hey, Boss! You're ba-"
Luke cuts him off with a sharp look and a small shake of his head. He lifts a finger in a quiet, unmistakable don’t.
Caesar freezes mid-step, then his eyes flick past Luke — and widen when he spots Jess.
“Oh,” he breathes, instantly getting it. He nods, pressing his lips together, turning back to the grill like nothing happened.
They move again.
And then Kirk, perched on a stool by the counter with a slice of pie halfway to his mouth, squints.
“Is that—”
Luke stops walking.
Kirk leans forward. “Is that Jess? I thought he was still—”
“Not now, Kirk,” Luke snaps.
Too late.
A few heads turn.
“Jess?” someone murmurs.
“That him?”
“He looks—”
Luke steps in front of Jess slightly without even thinking about it.
Patrons crane their necks to get a look, some standing up in concern.
"Is he okay?"
"Jess, honey, you look awful!"
"My goodness, he can barely stand!"
Jess keeps his head down. His face burns with embarrassment and fatigue.
Luke tightens his grip on Jess’s arm and steers him toward the stairs.
“Show’s over,” he says.
Suddenly, Lorelai appears beside them. "Nothing to see here, folks!” she takes a beat, but the diner is buzzing. “Everyone, listen up!" she shouts, her voice cutting through the curious murmurs. "Luke's feeling generous today. Free coffee for everyone!"
The diner erupts in excited chatter as Lorelai grabs the coffee pot and starts moving from table to table, refilling cups.
"That's right, folks! Get it while it's hot. You know Luke's coffee is the best in Connecticut. Maybe even the whole East Coast!"
As patrons clamor for their free refills, Luke seizes the opportunity to guide Jess towards the curtain separating the diner from the staircase.
"Almost there," Luke mutters encouragingly.
"Alright, who needs a warm-up? Kirk, I see that empty cup!"
Just before they disappear, Luke glances back. His eyes meet Lorelai’s, and he gives her a brief nod — an unmistakable thanks. She winks back before turning to Taylor with an overly enthusiastic, "Taylor, did I hear you say you wanted yours decaf?"
As they start up the stairs, Lorelai launches into some elaborate story about the secret ingredients in Luke’s coffee, her voice echoing behind them before fading out. Luke doesn’t look back. He just keeps one hand hovering near Jess’s elbow, close enough to grab if he has to.
Jess makes it maybe five steps before his breathing goes off rhythm.
He tells himself it’s nothing. Just lungs catching up. Just muscles that haven’t been used right in days. But the air feels thick, like he has to work for every breath, and his legs already have that weak, buzzy ache that means he pushed too hard too fast.
He grips the railing, knuckles whitening.
Luke notices immediately.
“Easy,” he mutters, not loud, not dramatic. Just there.
They make it halfway up before Jess has to stop. He leans into the wall, chest heaving, vision swimming just enough to be annoying.
“Sit,” Luke says, already steering him toward the little landing.
Jess scowls, but he lets himself be guided down onto the step, back thudding lightly against the wall. He drags a hand over his face, embarrassed more than anything.
“This is stupid,” he mutters. “It’s, like, ten stairs.”
Luke folds his arms, planting himself in front of him so he can’t just bolt back up out of spite.
Luke crosses his arms, stands in front of him so he can’t bolt up out of spite. “No, this is smart. You’re tired, you rest. That’s how it works.”
Jess stares at the floor, jaw tight.
The curtain hides them from the diner, but he can still hear cups clinking, people talking, life continuing like nothing weird is happening at all.
“Can they see?” he asks quietly.
Luke snorts. “Not unless Taylor installed x-ray vision while I was gone.”
He shifts the bags in his hands, hooks the backpack strap higher on his shoulder.
“Stay put,” he says. “I’ll drop this stuff upstairs and come back.”
Jess wants to argue. Doesn’t. His chest is still doing that tight, fluttery thing that makes words feel like effort.
Luke’s back is barely out of sight before Jess slumps forward, elbows on his knees, breathing slow, deliberate. He hates how fast his body betrayed him. Hates that the hospital let him out and he still feels like this.
After a minute or two, Luke’s boots reappear on the steps.
He crouches in front of him. “Alright. You ready, or you need another minute?”
Jess rolls his eyes weakly.
With Luke’s hand steady at his elbow, Jess hauls himself back up. His legs shake, but he keeps going, one step at a time, gripping the railing. The last few steps feel like an eternity, but when they finally reach the top, Jess leans heavily against the door frame, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He feels so silly but he’s completely wiped.
Luke opens the door and ushers Jess inside, a rare smile flickering across his face.
Jess looks up and immediately notices balloons and a giant “Welcome Home” sign. There’s a package on the kitchen table.
“Who did this?”
Luke shuts the door behind them, already taking off his jacket.
“See for yourself.”
Jess drops into the nearest chair, slower than he means to, and peels the note off the box.
“We’ve been Gilmored,” he announces.
Luke snorts in acknowledgment, not surprised in the slightest.
Jess opens the note:
Dear Jess,
Being sick sucks, but at least you’re on your way back.
Here are a few things to help you recover.
Oh, and doctor’s orders: 5 eye-rolls a day. For medicinal purposes, of course.
Love,
Lorelai & Rory
Jess stares at it for a second longer than necessary, then shakes his head.
“They work fast,” he mutters.
Luke leans against the counter, arms crossed.
“I told Lorelai you were being discharged this morning,” Luke explains, “That was — what — 3 hours ago?”
Jess stares at the box again, then back at Luke.
“I think she got my spare key from Caesar,” His uncles responds, like he knew what Jess was thinking.
Luke’s smile gets bigger, curious, “So what’d they get you?”
Jess takes out a box of herbal tea, a copy of David Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Startdust and The Spiders from Mars. (There’s a post-it that says “Recovery Tunes.”) There’s also some action movie DVDs (The Fifth Element, Speed, and Terminator 2: Judgment Day), a bottle of Gatorade, and finally, a large cotton fleece blanket in dark gray.
“You want something to eat?” Luke asks. “I can make us some eggs.”
“Not hungry,” Jess says. He’s starting to get a headache. “I’m going to go watch one of the movies,” he says quickly, picking up one of the DVDs and moving to the couch before Luke can say anything.
Luke wants to protest, to insist that Jess needs something in his system, but he bites his tongue.
“Alright,” Luke says, “But you should try to eat something soon. Can’t take your meds on an empty stomach.”
Jess nods absently, already fiddling with the DVD player. Luke watches him for a moment, noticing how Jess’s hands shake as he tries to open the case.
"Need help with that?" Luke asks, stepping closer.
"I got it," Jess mutters, frustration in his voice as he struggles with the plastic wrap.
Luke sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s not sure if he should stick around or give Jess his space.
Finally he says, “Look, I want to see what’s going on with the diner since we’re home now and people have been asking for me. So I’m going downstairs for a bit. I can make you some tea first,” he adds, picking up the box from Lorelai and Rory.
Jess pauses, considering. "Yeah, okay," he concedes.
As Luke moves to the kitchen to prepare the tea, he keeps glancing back at the kid. He knows Jess hates being fussed over, but he can't help feeling protective, especially seeing how weak his nephew still is.
Eventually, Luke places the mug in front of Jess on the couch and brings over the blanket.
“You ok?” he asks and Jess looks up.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Alright, I’ll bring you back something to eat,” Luke says and goes downstairs.
***
Luke descends the stairs to the diner, immediately greeted by a chorus of voices.
"Luke! Nice to have you back.”
“We missed you!”
“How's Jess?"
"Is he feeling better?"
Luke raises his hands, overwhelmed. "He's fine, just resting. Thanks for asking."
His eyes scan the room, landing on Lorelai behind the counter. He makes his way over, dodging well-wishers.
"Hey," he says quietly. "Thanks for earlier. The distraction helped."
Lorelai smiles. "Anytime. How's our patient?"
"Tired. But getting there."
Luke moves behind the counter, falling into the familiar rhythm of taking orders and refilling coffees. Lorelai moves out from behind the counter and goes to sit on a stool next to Kirk.
Caesar updates Luke on the day's events, and Luke finds himself nodding mechanically, his mind still upstairs with Jess.
After about an hour, Lorelai notices Luke's movements are slower.
"Luke," she says firmly. "Go upstairs and sleep. Everything’s covered here.”
"But-"
"No buts. We’ll close up early. Tomorrow you can go back to being Super Luke, diner extraordinaire.”
Luke hesitates, then nods gratefully. "Thanks, Lorelai."
Luke trudges up the stairs, the day's exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. As he pushes open the apartment door, the soft glow of the TV greets him. He pauses, taking in the scene before him.
Jess is curled up on the couch, his body tucked into the corner, head drooping, wrapped in the new gray blanket. The Fifth Element plays quietly on the screen, casting flickering lights across his nephew's sleeping face. The mug of tea on the coffee table is half-empty.
Small victories, I guess, Luke thinks.
Moving quietly, Luke grabs a pillow from his bed. With careful movements, he gently lifts Jess's head and slides the pillow underneath. Jess stirs slightly but doesn't wake.
Luke's hand hovers for a moment before he presses his palm to Jess's forehead. No trace of fever. He lets out a small sigh of relief.
Reaching for the remote, Luke switches off the TV, plunging the room into a comfortable silence. He stands there for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of Jess's chest.
Finally, Luke turns away, exhaustion catching up with him. He moves to his own bed. He’ll let Jess use it later, to recover, but for now his nephew seems content on the couch.
Luke kicks off his shoes and lies down with a groan. As he drifts off to sleep, his last thought is relief that they’re both home.
***
Luke stirs awake, disoriented for a moment as he realizes it’s already evening. He’s still in his jeans and flannel, slumped halfway sideways on the couch like he never meant to fall asleep at all.
He blinks at the clock.
7:17 pm.
Great.
He scrubs a hand over his face and looks across the room at Jess, still out cold on the couch, the blanket tangled around his legs, one sock half-off like he gave up mid-adjustment. His face is pale, lashes dark against his cheeks.
Luke exhales quietly and stands.
He changes into sweatpants and a clean T-shirt, moves around the apartment without turning on extra lights, automatically stepping around the one loose floorboard he always forgets about. He makes it to the kitchen, gathers the stack of diner invoices he’s been ignoring since the hospital, and sits down with a pen.
He gets through exactly three before he hears it.
A soft rustle.
Luke looks up.
Jess is shifting, restless, the blanket sliding off his shoulder. His face pinches like something hurts before his eyes even open.
“Jess?” Luke says, already halfway out of his chair.
Jess’s eyes flutter open, unfocused. “Hey,” he mutters. His voice is rough, scraped raw.
"You okay?" Luke asks, coming over to him.
Jess nods, but he's shivering. "Just cold." Luke can see him trembling, arms wrapped tight around himself.
Luke reaches out without thinking, presses his palm to Jess’s forehead. Not hot. Not burning. Still warm from sleep, but normal.
“You don’t have a fever,” Luke says.
“Not a fever,” Jess replies through another shiver. “Just… can’t get warm.”
Luke frowns like he’s replaying in his head something the doctor said about temperature regulation.
“Alright. Hang on.”
He grabs the fallen blanket, drapes it back over Jess, then disappears into his room and comes back with the thick quilt he keeps for January. He layers it on top, tucks it in without comment.
“Better?” he asks, gruff.
Jess nods, burrowing into it. “Thanks.”
Luke’s already crossing the room. “I’ll turn the heat up.”
“You don’t have to—”
Luke ignores that and crouches by the radiator, twisting the stubborn valve. It clanks in protest, then starts its familiar knocking.
“Radiator’s slow,” Luke mutters. “But it’ll get there.”
He drags the armchair closer, then looks back at Jess. “You wanna move over here? Warmer by the window.”
Jess hesitates. Pride vs. cold. Cold wins.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Luke helps him shuffle the few steps to the chair, blankets and all, positions him where the heat will hit first. The pipes knock and groan like they’re doing Jess a personal favor.
Jess slumps, shoulders finally easing. The shivering fades.
“…Guess I’m still messed up,” he mutters.
Luke shakes his head. “Temporary.”
A beat.
“I brought mac and cheese back from the diner,” Luke tells him. “You still like mac and cheese, right?”
Jess nods. “I can eat at the table.”
He pushes up too fast.
Immediately sways.
Grabs the chair back, breathing hard.
Luke’s hand shoots out, steadying him. “Easy.”
“I’m fine,” Jess mutters, too quick.
Luke doesn’t argue. Just keeps his hand there until Jess’s legs stop wobbling.
The walk to the table is slow. Jess drops into the chair like it took everything he had.
He’s halfway through the mac and cheese when Luke’s phone buzzes on the counter.
Luke glances at the screen and frowns. “It’s your mom.”
Jess freezes, fork hovering over the plate. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to say something. Then he shrugs. “You take it.”
Luke hesitates, watching him for a beat for he answers. “Yeah?”
“Luke!” Liz’s voice is bright and a little too enthusiastic. “Hey! How’s he doing? Is Jess okay?”
“Yeah, he’s ok.” Luke answers gruffly.
“You said he was sick — what happened?”
Luke moves to the other side of the kitchen, lowering his voice. “He was in the hospital, Liz. He had a fever for days. You should’ve called sooner.”
“I didn’t know, okay?” Liz says defensively. “You can’t blame me for not knowing! You didn’t tell me it was that bad.”
“I told you,” Luke snaps, then reins it in. “He’s home now. He’s tired. You wanna talk to him or not?”
“Of course I do!” she replies, sounding offended. “…Is he mad at me?”
Luke glances at Jess, who’s suddenly very interested in his mac and cheese. “You’d have to ask him that.”
“Luke, come on,” Liz presses. “You know how he is. He never talks to me about anything. I didn’t even know he was sick until you called!”
“Because you don’t check in, Liz,” Luke snaps, his patience wearing thin. “You don’t get to act surprised when you’re out of the loop.”
Silence.
Then, smaller: “I’m sorry, Luke. I really am,” she says.
“Yeah,” Luke says. “Well, tell him that, not me.”
Surprisingly, he doesn’t shove the phone at his nephew. He covers it with his palm instead. “You want this or should I tell her to call later?”
Jess stares at his plate. Then sighs. “I’ll take it.”
Luke hands him the phone and backs off to the couch.
Jess presses the phone to his ear. His voice is tight and even a little shaky. “Yeah?”
“Jess!” Liz’s voice brightens, too much so. “Honey, I’m glad you’re feeling better. Luke told me you weren’t well—I had no idea! Why didn’t you call me?”
Jess stares at the table, his grip tightening on the phone. "I was in the hospital," Jess says flatly. "Kind of hard to make phone calls when you're delirious."
Liz’s tone falters. "I—I didn't know it was that serious. Luke said you had the flu—"
"You knew. Luke called you."
There's a pause. "I know, but—honey, you know how I am with hospitals. They just make me so anxious—"
"Right." Jess's voice goes cold. "It wouldn't have mattered anyway."
“That’s not fair—”
“Yeah…not fair to who,”
Liz lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, okay? I really am. I’ve been trying, Jess. You have no idea how much I’ve been trying.”
Jess laughs bitterly. “Trying? At what? Showing up once in a blue moon and pretending everything’s fine?”
“I would have been there,” Liz says, too fast. “I just didn’t know it was this bad.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Jess, that’s not fair,” Liz says again, her voice cracking slightly. “I know I’ve screwed up, but I’m still your mom. I still love you.”
Jess swallows hard, his throat tightening. “Great. Thanks. Real helpful,” he mutters.
“Jess...” Liz starts, but he cuts her off.
“I’m tired,” he cuts in. “I can’t do this right now.”
A pause.
“…Alright. I’ll let you go. But, Jess…I mean it. I’m sorry. And I love you. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright baby?”
“Don’t,” Jess says quietly.
He hangs up.
The phone hits the table with a dull thud.
Jess stares at it like it might say something else, like if he just waits long enough, the words will rearrange themselves into something that makes this less awful. But the screen stays dark, and his hand—his stupid hand—won’t stop shaking.
Jess works his jaw. His hand is still braced at the edge of the table. It’s shaking enough just to be annoying.
Luke comes back from the couch, hands on his hips. “You gonna throw that at the wall or can I take it back?” he asks about the phone, before plucking it off the table.
It's so absurd, so Luke, that Jess almost laughs. Almost. He frowns instead.
Luke steps closer, quiet. Sets his hand over his nephew’s. Not gripping. Just covering it until the trembling stops.
He stands there for a few seconds. His thumb presses lightly into the back of his hand, steady. Then he pulls away.
“You’re cold,” Luke mutters.
“I’m fine,” Jess mumbles.
Luke doesn’t answer. He watches Jess for a moment longer. The way his shoulders are drawn tight, his face carefully blank, like he’s trying to shove everything from that call into some locked-up place where it can’t touch him.
But he’s still pale, still run-down, and pretending he’s fine isn’t going to cut it.
Luke moves the phone out of reach and sets it on the counter like it’s misbehaving.
Then he tugs the hood of Jess’s sweatshirt up over his head.
Jess blinks, startled.
“Keep your ears warm,” Luke says simply, with a crooked smile, like it’s the only reason he’s doing that — like it’s not also about the way Jess just got knocked sideways by his mom and still looks like he’s on the verge of shaking apart.
He looks amused. “That’s not how that works,” he says.
“You’re sitting still,” Luke says. “That’s how it works.”
Jess huffs, almost a laugh. “You just make stuff up.”
“It’s called practical medicine,” Luke mutters, nudging his shoulder. “Don’t argue with science.”
He grabs the pill bottle, shakes one out, pours a glass of water, and sets both down.
“Come on, you need to take your meds.”
Jess groans, tilting his head back against the chair. “Ugh, seriously?”
Luke watches him take the pill.
Jess eyes him warily. “I feel like you enjoy bossing me around.”
“Yeah, well,” Luke deadpans, “you make it easy.”
Jess rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.
Luke watches him swallow, then pulls the glass away before Jess can set it down too fast. “You good?”
Jess exhales through his nose, dragging a hand over his face. “Yeah.” He pauses, his voice quieter when he adds, “Just tired.”
It’s only about 8pm, too early for Jess to go to sleep for the night — although he thinks about it.
Luke tries to change the subject. Moves to the couch. Grabs the remote. “You wanna watch something?”
Jess, still slouched at the table, glances over, suspicious. “You asking or telling?”
Luke shrugs. “You look like you’re gonna pass out either way. Might as well do it with something on in the background.”
Jess rolls his eyes but drags himself up, muttering, “Fine, but if you put on a Western, I’m leaving.”
“Like you could make it down the stairs,” Luke teases, flipping channels.
Jess mutters something under his breath but sinks down onto the couch next to Luke, stretching his legs out under a blanket. He still looks exhausted, eyes glassy, but at least now he’s distracted.
Even after everything —the hospital, the late nights, the fever breaking — Luke is still surprised that Jess wants to sit next to him. He doesn’t say anything, though. Doesn’t point it out, the way he pulls the blanket up without complaint.
Just keeps his focus on the tv.
“I was thinking you could watch the rest of that movie you were watching earlier,” Luke suggests.
“The Fifth Element?”
“Yeah, doesn’t seem like you actually watched it though.”
“I didn’t,” Jess answers, with a smirk. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“From the beginning?” Luke asks.
“Yeah,” Jess answers.
Luke hits play.
Ten minutes later, Jess’s head starts to dip.
He fights it—his chin jerking up slightly every time his eyes slide closed—but it’s a losing battle. Eventually, he shifts slightly, leaning against the couch arm first… but at some point, he drifts sideways, his shoulder brushing against Luke’s arm before he just slumps there, completely out.
Luke freezes, not daring to move, his arm awkwardly pinned under Jess’s weight.
He hadn’t expected this—not really. Even after everything—the hospital, the late nights, the fever breaking—Jess still wasn’t the type to lean on people, not even when he needed to.
But here he is, completely out, his shoulder heavy against Luke’s arm, like it was just…the right thing to do.
Luke stares at the TV, not really watching. He should probably shift, should probably move before his arm falls asleep, but something about it feels… precarious. Like one wrong move will remind Jess of where he is, what he’s doing, and he’ll pull away.
Jess stirs slightly—just a slow, heavy breath, his body slumping even further into sleep.
Luke exhales. Slowly, carefully, he shifts. First, he eases his arm free, slow enough that Jess doesn’t stir. Jess barely moves, just tilts a little more into the couch, his body adjusting instinctively. Luke keeps his movements measured, pulling his arm back until it’s free, resting it along the back of the couch instead.
He could leave it there. He should. But then Jess shivers slightly under the blanket, just the faintest movement, and before Luke can talk himself out of it, he reaches forward, tugging the blanket higher over his shoulders.
Jess doesn’t react.
Luke hesitates. Then, before he can overthink, his hand moves—just once, smoothing lightly over the top of Jess’s hair.
Not ruffling. Not messing it up like usual. Just a quiet, barely-there motion.
Like he’s just making sure Jess is really there, really okay.
Then, as if nothing happened, Luke turns back to the TV.
And Jess sleeps on.
Luke lets him sleep longer than he means to. He tells himself he’ll wake him up in five minutes, then lets ten go by. Eventually, though, he shifts just enough to feel the stiffness settling into his shoulder and knows he can’t sit here all night.
“Jess.” His voice is low, gruff, quiet enough not to startle.
Nothing.
Luke sighs. He nudges Jess’s arm lightly, not rough, just enough to try again.
“Jess, c’mon. Wake up.”
Jess stirs this time, his forehead scrunching slightly like he’s already annoyed. He lets out a quiet, disgruntled noise but doesn’t lift his head.
Luke huffs. “I’m not carrying you to bed, kid.”
Jess shifts, blinking heavily as reality slowly drags him back. For a second, he’s confused, sluggish, his body reluctant to move. Then, as he starts to wake up for real, his whole posture stiffens.
He realizes where he is.
Who he’s leaning on.
Jess pulls away fast, like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair like that’ll erase what just happened.
Luke watches him for a second, then just leans forward and flicks off the TV.
“Go to bed,” he says a little more softly, but he stands up and stretches like nothing happened.
Jess hesitates, watching him like he’s waiting for a comment, some kind of acknowledgment. But none comes.
“Yeah,” Jess mutters, voice still rough with sleep. “Ok.”
He shoves the blanket off and drags himself towards the bed without another word.
Luke doesn’t say anything either. Just waits until he hears the creak of the mattress, then exhales and rubs the back of his neck.
Shakes his head to himself.
And turns off the last light.