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The grumpy footsteps plodding down the stairs and towards the kitchen could only mean one thing. Right on cue, a pair of arms encircled Arthit from behind, the tip of a nose nuzzling his nape before a heavy head settled itself onto his shoulder.
"Good morning, P'Arthit. Are you already dressed for work? Why didn't you wake me?"
He smiled at the petulant tone. Kongphob's uncharacteristically nasal voice should've been answer enough to that question, but he was nothing if not stubborn. He'd slept fitfully all night, and had felt rather warm to the touch when Arthit had finally responded to Gia's piteous cries and crept out of bed to serve her breakfast.
"Thought you could use the lie-in," he said mildly, turning around so he could take a proper look at his face. Despite his best efforts to put up a brave front, he did appear rather worse for the wear. Arthit frowned, briefly touching a hand to his forehead. Retrieving a thermometer from the first-aid cabinet, he handed it wordlessly over to Kongphob, who sighed and stuck it in his mouth without further protest.
Gia had made her grand appearance in the meantime, rubbing up insistently against their ankles until Kongphob relented and picked her up. Arthit was rewarded with the view of their pampered tabby purring up a storm as she kneaded her paws against Kongphob's chest. The little brat had made herself at home soon after they moved in, and Kongphob's little niece had christened her Gia, declaring that the swirl of her coat pattern resembled a gear.
There was no way they could've possibly rehomed her, after that.
"I've already fed her," he informed Kongphob, who usually took on the responsibility when he got up in the morning. He nodded gratefully in acknowledgement, before Gia tapped his cheek and demanded his full attention.
Arthit could feel the stupid expression forming on his face at the sight of Kongphob cooing at their cat, thermometer still clenched between his lips. He chose not to think about it.
The thermometer beeped presently. Since Kongphob's hands were still occupied, Arthit reached over to relieve him of it. 37.8°C, the digital display read. Well above the cutoff they'd agreed upon the last time they'd argued about what constituted being "sick enough to stay home". He showed it to Kongphob, eyebrow raised in challenge, and accepted his sigh of defeat with a gracious smirk.
"You're going right back to bed after this," he told Kongphob sternly as they tucked into bowls of porridge. "I already told Nana you wouldn't be coming in today, and to make sure nobody bothered you with any messages."
Kongphob nodded at the mention of his secretary's name, his free hand toying idly with the button on Arthit's cuff.
Arthit paused, waiting for the protests that never arrived. "You're being unusually compliant about this," he observed, turning his palm up to catch Kongphob's hand in his. "Are you feeling alright? Should I stay home and watch you?"
Hopeful eyes looked up at him. He sighed inwardly. Of course he would be staying home.
*
Kongphob was in heaven, he decided. He could feel gentle fingers at his hairline, brushing his fringe aside to press a cool touch to his forehead.
He opened his eyes to the angelic sight of P'Arthit, looking over him with concern. "You're all clammy from sweat," he murmured.
His burning throat and aching limbs immediately started clamouring for his attention. Right. There was a reason why he was lying in bed in the middle of the day.
"I'm feeling better already," he insisted, sitting up. It wasn't a lie. P'Arthit tended to have that effect on him. And he'd taken the cold medication which had knocked him out for a good few hours. That had to have done some good.
P'Arthit didn't seem to believe him, handing over a thermometer as he helped him up. Fine, they'd let the numbers do the talking.
He wasn't expecting it when P'Arthit reached for his pyjama top and started unbuttoning it. "P'Arthit!" he gasped, reflexively grabbing his arm in surprise. His bare forearm, he realised belatedly, picking up the thermometer that had fallen out of his mouth.
The sleeves of P'Arthit's shirt had been rolled up to the elbows, and he was frowning in concentration as those toned forearms worked their way down the row of buttons. Was this a dream? "Let's get you cleaned up and out of these damp clothes," he said lightly. Definitely a dream.
Kongphob didn't think he was imagining the faint tinge of colour dusting his cheeks, though. Dazed, he allowed himself to be manipulated out of his shirt when the last button was freed.
This had to be heaven.
Then P'Arthit wrung out a washcloth over the basin of lukewarm water he'd set on the nightstand and started wiping him down, and Kongphob understood that he was actually in hell.
"P'Arthit," he croaked plaintively, as the damp washcloth worked its way down his neck, under his arm and across his chest. "Is this some kind of punishment?" he whined, feeling his nipples tighten in response to the touch.
"Do you want me to stop?" his tormentor asked with a hint of exasperation, studiously avoiding his eyes as he lifted his other arm and concentrated on a patch of skin there.
"No." Obviously. "But you're making it really hard for me not to kiss you, and I don't want to pass you my infection."
His beloved snorted, his ears reddening. "Well, that'll teach you to play the hero and attempt to fix the water tank in the rain, won't it?"
"But P'Arthit," he protested, "it would have meant days without hot water, if we'd waited for the next available technician!" And anyway, he had fixed the problem. He was an engineer too, after all.
The thermometer beeped, just then, and Kongphob showed his nurse the reading triumphantly. 37.3°C — below their agreed-upon threshold for enforced rest.
He saw the tense expression on P'Arthit's face loosen slightly at seeing his temperature go down, and felt a twinge of guilt at causing him worry. He thought of seeing P'Arthit in his red jacket, running laps around the field in the rain all those years ago. He remembered how it had felt to be shut out. God, Kongphob really wanted to kiss him now.
He was beaten to it with a quick press of dry lips on his forehead. "Still doesn't mean you're going anywhere near your laptop today," Arthit said, tossing him a fresh shirt as he got up to put away the basin and washcloth.
Kongphob grinned. "Was that an order, P'Arthit?"
*
"Is that my special steamed egg recipe? Pulling out all the stops, eh, P'Arthit?"
Arthit rolled his eyes. Kongphob was clearly feeling more like himself that afternoon, despite the hoarseness of his voice.
"Do you want something easy on your throat or not, Patient 0062?" He exaggerated the aggrieved tone, to downplay his relief.
He should've known that Kongphob would volley right back, eagerly. "I'd eat anything you served me, Nurse Arthit."
"Kongphob!" He could see where this was going a mile away, and applied brakes hastily, knowing it wouldn't be Kongphob if he didn't try to push his limits.
Fortunately, they were interrupted by Gia, who also enjoyed pushing her limits by joining her humans at the table, creating a commotion as they tried to stop her from sampling their meal.
"Do you think we should really ask P'Bright's Phi to talk to her about getting a sibling?" Kongphob said, dropping kisses between her ears while carrying her unceremoniously out of the kitchen.
They'd been talking about adopting a second cat as a companion to Gia, so she wouldn't feel bored or lonely when they were away at work all day. Bright had brought up contacting an animal communicator to suss out her opinions about it, a suggestion they had both outwardly scoffed at.
It was one of countless threads they had passed back and forth between them, loose ends they could casually pick up and continue weaving seamlessly into the tapestry of their daily lives.
Arthit felt his heart swell, unbidden.
On impulse, he grabbed Kongphob as he was settling back into his seat, capturing his lips in a kiss that was immediately returned.
"P'Arthit! What was that for!" A rare display of self-restraint on Kongphob's part.
"What, you didn't like it? Shall I take it back?" Arthit doubted that was the case.
"No! But I've been trying not to get you sick," he said mournfully.
Arthit smirked. Somehow, he had faith that his immune system was better equipped than the pampered kid he'd married.
"I'll take my chances," he whispered, going in for another kiss. "We promised, 'in sickness and in health', right?"
There was nothing left to be said after that.