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“Don’t be sad, sir,” Carter whispers, looking up at him through his lashes. Then he looks down at sir’s crotch and tentatively reaches for his belt with his free hand. “C-can I help make you feel better, sir?”
“No, sweetheart. No. Don’t help.” Sir puts his hand over Carter’s, squeezing it gently. “I just – you seem…”
When sir doesn’t finish, Carter hangs his head and whispers, “I just wanted to be good for you, sir. I’m just trying to begood…”
It takes sir a moment, but then he sits up and gives Carter one of his warm smiles that makes Carter feel like he’s on top of the world. Sir cups the side of Carter’s face and leans their foreheads together. Carter hurries to pull away, but sir chases him, holding him in place with a hand to the back of Carter’s head.
“Where are you going?” sir asks in a husky voice.
“My breath smells, sir. From - from throwing up.”
Sir chuckles. “God, the fact that you care - you’re so fuckinggood, sweet boy. I’m so happy to have you.”
“Really?” Carter asks in wonder.
“Really.” Sir presses a kiss to Carter’s lips. It’s soft. Chaste. Just like the one before the party when sir had begged him to behave tonight. Guilt crawls up Carter’s throat, threatening to strangle him. He squeezes his eyes shut and hangs his head, trying not to cry.
“Do you feel sick again, sweetheart?”
Carter’s heart breaks. This man is so kind to him. He doesn’t deserve it. “I’m fine, sir.”
“Okay, let’s get you back in bed then. I’ll find you a bucket so you don’t have to keep going back and forth. It’ll be good for you to get some rest.” Carter nods, letting sir help him get to his feet. He has to lean on him to walk. He wants to apologize for the inconvenience, but he can’t find the words. Everything feels awful and wrong, and he’s fairly certain he’s dying, even if sir said he’s not.
Sir tucks Carter in when they reach the bed, taking care with his IV as he hangs the bag back on its hook. Carter sinks into the pillows and watches the man as he continues to fuss over Carter like a worried mother, putting an empty waste basket by the side of the bed, getting Carter his stuffed moose, checking Carter’s IV, getting Carter a damp cloth for his forehead, getting Carter fresh water, getting Carter a straw when he can’t get himself to sit up for the water, getting Carter some heavenly gel for his welts, getting Carter a new cloth for his forehead because his fever is warming it up too quickly, checking Carter’s IVagain, getting Carter-
“Sir?” Carter rasps, barely able to keep his eyes open any longer.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Can you jus’… lay with me? ‘N – ‘n hold me?”
There’s a slight pause, but then Carter feels the bed dip beside him. The next moment, sir’s hand is running through his hair like earlier, each stroke slow and gentle and reassuring. Sir’s lips press a kiss to his temple. Then his cheek. Then that spot behind his ear.
As Carter drifts off, he thinks he hears sir once again whispering an apology. He knows it’s not real, but he still lets himself smile.
