Walker Advent calendar: Flap #8

Rate: G
Disclaimer: Just borrowing.
Summary: A Christmas tale.
Spoilers: None.
Word count: 570

When the alarm clock rings on the morning of December 8th in the Walker-Wandell household, Kevin moans in disappointment as usual, and Scotty nearly screams because the noise makes his head ring.


“Ugh, that is awful,” he complains, pulling the duvet and the extra blankets – yes, plural! – closer around him. “I’ve been cold all night, waking up in shivers,” he whines.


“Aw, honey,” Kevin says, rolling around to kiss his husband good morning. Upon seeing Scotty’s shiny eyes and his rosy cheeks, he realizes that Scotty isn’t just cold from the bad weather they’ve been having.


“Do you have a fever?” he asks, putting his hand on Scotty’s forehead. “You do! I’ll get you an aspirin.”

“What?” Scotty barely has time to registers what happens before Kevin has fetched him a small white pill and a glass of water, tucked him in with another blanket, called San Estephé to let them know he isn’t coming and promised to make sure he gets all the ice cream he can eat before the day is over.


Kevin softly kisses Scotty’s lips before leaving for work, and Scotty’s only memory is the hint of coffee taste that lingers. He is already asleep when Kevin closes the door behind him, and he doesn’t wake up until a few hours later when the aspirin starts wearing off.


Scotty makes a half-hearted attempt to get out of bed, and had it not been for his strong will to reduce his fever with another aspirin, he would never have made it. He has six new texts on his cell, two from Kevin. The other four are from random Walkers – Scotty won’t remember – who are all ready to get him what he needs.


He sends Kevin a message even though it hurts his thumb to type, and then carries all his duvets and blankets to the couch. He puts the while aspirin box on the coffee table, as well as a carton of orange juice, a big bottle of water, his cell phone and a pack of tissues.


“I hate phlegm,” he mutters and moves the trash can closer to the couch so he can dispose of them easily. He puts on Glitter and tucks himself in on the couch. The DVD has barely started when he is asleep again, and it’s there Kevin finds him when he arrives home from work.


Scotty looks up when the door opens.

“I got you Cookie dough,” Kevin says and wiggles the ice cream jar. Scotty extracts both hands towards it, like a child, and Kevin fetches him a spoon from the kitchen.


“Still a fever?” Kevin asks, even though it’s needless to ask.

“I’ve tlept the oole day,” Scotty snuffles.

“You want me to cook for you?” Scotty shakes his head and immediately notices his mistake and wrenches in pain.


“Just ice ceem,” he says and points at the jar with his spoon. “Come sit.” He pats the spot behind him on the couch and Kevin manages to squeeze himself down under Scotty’s mountain of pillows, respectfully placing Liza on top of his lap. Scotty rests his head on Kevin’s lap and the many pillows and continues to munch down his ice cream in silence.


Kevin sees the movie on the TV and guesses it’s been on all day, and as much as he would like to watch the news, a little glamour hasn’t hurt.


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