Harry sighed, and took a long sip for his glass. The clear yellow liquid that clung in the sides of the glass tickled his nose and throat on the way down. He gave an involuntary shiver and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Absently he flicked through the channels. It was four days before Christmas and all the stations were being invaded with corny little cartoons involving reindeer and old black and white movies, which were supposed to be people in the "Christmas spirit". He snorted in amusement. Fat chance a cartoon was going to put him in the bloody Christmas Spirit. He uttered a sniffle and scratched his nose. After passing channel 64, he turned the television off and tossed the remote to his left. It landed with a soft plop on the couch. Not stopping there, it bounced off one of the plush white cushions and onto the hardwood floor. It finally came to a stop, after skidding some feet, under the coffee table. Harry stared at it for a few moments, silently willing it to slide back out before abandoning his blanket and kneeling to the floor to get it. The floor underneath the table was covered in a thin layer of velvety dust and he silently cursed himself for not cleaning out under there sooner. He rummaged around some more and finally felt the cold hard plastic of the remote next to something that was lint covered and fuzzy. Curiously, he pulled both out. It was a sock. A black sock, with a purple band around the top. Frowning he tried to remember if he owned it's mate but he knew he didn't.

Running his thumb over the band, sudden realization struck him. Of course this sock didn't belong to him. He only owned black, or white, or brown socks. Socks that went with every piece of clothing he owned. Sensible socks. This sock belonged to Karl. He went back to the couch, the sock still in his hand and the remote forgotten on the floor.

"Karl must have left this here." His mind told him. Karl. The name echoed in his head. His stomach gave a little lurch. Karl. Silky, black hair that Harry loved to run his hands through, and deep hazel eyes that could literally hold Harry in place. Where was Karl anyway? His Karl. Harry needed his Karl. Harry snuggled down deeper into his blanket, clutching the sock like a teddy bear. He wondered slightly how foolish he looked but then realized he didn't care.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, but Harry ignored them. Harry didn't look up when the owner of the footsteps came in the room.

"Harry!" A deep voice exclaimed. "Harry." The voice came closer and Harry felt the couch sag a bit as the person sat down. "Harry." The voice said one last time before Harry looked up and was met with those amber eyes.

"I told you to drink all your tea you silly little twit." Karl placed a hand to Harry's forehead. "Hell! You're burning up!"

"Am I?" Harry asked absently; he was still busy staring into Karl's eyes.

"Yes! You're probably even delirious. Look, I really think I should take you to the doctor." Harry moaned a little. He sunk deeper into his blanket and rested his head on Karl's knee. He suddenly felt very tired. Karl chuckled, patting his head.

" You're so cute when you're sleepy." Harry smiled. A comfortable silence settled over the two men. Harry poked Karl in the ribs after a while, and rose a bit to embrace him to a kiss. Karl knew he probably shouldn't be kissing a sick man, but all thought seemed to escape him when Harry's hand started its journey into Karl's pants. Karl went to grab Harry's other free hand, but realized that it was already clutching something rather tightly. He broke off a kiss (with Harry groaning a protest) to get a better look at the foreign object.


"Yes love?"

"Why are you holding a sock?"

"Because its yours."

"…. Where did you get this?"

"Under the coffee table." Karl paused. 'Under the coffee table?'

"Alright sock man, I think its time we get you to bed. You're sicker than I thought you were."

"But.. But…" Harry sniffled. "We were…."

"Hush. We can later once you're better again." Harry sniffled again.


Once Harry was tucked into bed and there was Christmas music played softly (Karl's own mother had always played this for him when Karl got sick) over the stereo in their room, Karl made his way back into the kitchen. It was amazing how much Harry transformed when he was sick. He went from this big strong man, to a sniffling, cute, little… thing! It was so customary for Harry to be the one in charge around the house; the one who would take care of Karl.

Karl shook himself out of thought and started to make Harry some more tea.


There were blankets piled high around Harry. He couldn't see anything either. He squirmed out of them and propped himself into a sitting position. He wasn't sick! Karl didn't know what he was talking about. Just because he was little warm and sneezed occasionally didn't mean that Karl was aloud to put him to bed and make him drink horrible tasting tea.

Harry struggled out of the blankets and swung his legs around the side of the bed. Where was Karl anyway? Harry seemed to be misplacing him a lot today. He pulled off his flimsy white shirt that was getting far to warm and walked over to where his slippers were. His black pajama bottoms were too long and they trailed after him on the bare hardwood. He shuffled out of the room, stopping at the top of the staircase. He could here someone down in the kitchen. The faint whistle of the kettle sounded. Hmmm. A sudden idea sprung into Harry's head. Karl should be punished for trying to keep Harry in bed. Yes! He started down the stairs. He made careful to skip the 4th step, for it creaked and if Karl heard him then the plan would be ruined. Harry made it the bottom without a sound. He was beginning to get a big lightheaded but dismissed it for lack of food. He could hear Karl humming. When Harry was right outside the kitchen, he stopped and waited. His time had to be perfect. He almost felt like some sort of hunter, seeking out his prey. Harry stifled a giggle.

Karl moved to open the fridge now, and then back to the counter to pour something in a mug, … back to open the fridge again. Harry knew where he was going to go next. The cutlery drawer, to get a spoon. Perfect. Harry raced into the kitchen, and pounced on Karl's back just as the drawer was rattled open. Swiftly, Harry turned Karl around, pressing him up against the counter and took him into a deep kiss. Karl gasped but Harry noticed smugly, that he wasn't pulling away. He poked his tongue gently to Karl's lips, willing them to open. They did, and Harry quickly slipped his tongue inside.

Harry loved Karl's mouth. Everything about it was wonderful. It was so soft and warm. He leaned further into Karl, pressing his leg between both of Karl's. Karl groaned and pulled away.

"Harry. Harry, you're ill. Please, you should be in bed." Harry buried his head in Karl's neck, flicking his tongue out at different spots. Karl squirmed.

"But this is so much more fun." Harry whispered. Karl groaned again. Harry, who was still busily licking Karl's neck, decided that he definitely needed to loose the shirt. He tugged it over Karl's head and flung in onto one of the kitchen chairs. Harry slowly ran his hands over Karl's tanned chest.

"Harry…" Karl tried again. Harry traced a finger down the middle of Karl's chest and made little swirls around the waistband of Karl's jeans. Harry tenderly popped the button free and pulled down the zipper slowly. Irritatingly slow. He looked up to see Karl glaring down at him; he grinned.

The zipper undone, Harry pulled them down, along with the underwear and Karl gingerly stepped out of them.

"You… You should be in bed…" Karl whispered, his voice haggard.

"I know." Harry replied simply, and took Karl into his mouth. He felt a shudder go through Karl's body. He began to swirl his tongue around the head, tracing intricate patterns. Karl hated that. He wanted speed, and roughness. Harry just loved torturing him. Karl was leaning against the counter, gripping it for support. His eyes were closed his mouth half-open. Harry reached a hand up to lay on his stomach. Karl was so beautiful, and he almost made him stop when he realized that this was his. Karl, this beautiful angel that could have any other man, who could make women swoon just one look (hell, he could make men swoon with just one look!) had chosen him. Harry swelled with happiness, taking Karl deeper into this throat. Karl grunted something unintelligible, before he went rigid and them shivered. In a rush, he came into Harry's mouth.

Karl sagged against the counter now, breathing quickly. He slid down to the linoleum to wrap his arms around Harry. They sat there together for a long time, Harry just lying in Karl's arms. Then, suddenly, Harry sneezed.



" I think I'm sick."