I fumbled and reached for the remote to the air conditioner and switched it off. It was incredibly hot, but it was making Anthony uncomfortable. Next, I made him lean forward, and I held him so that I could pull off the suit that he was wearing. For some odd reason, he had thought that wearing a suit would somehow make the meeting seem formal. How much more formal could a strategic meeting be? I huffed as I threw the offending thing at the corner of the room.

"Michael," I whispered again. He seemed to hear what I was saying.

"What?" he groaned.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Do I look it?" I suppose that he hadn't lost his touch even when he was ill. I chuckled and mumbled a no.

"Can you open your eyes?" He just groaned again; I took that as a no. "What's wrong?" I whispered.

"My head... hurts," his voice grew raspy.

"I'll take care of you," I promised, surprising myself a little bit. He made this throat sound that I couldn't decipher. I tucked myself under his arm and held him in my grasp before I pulled him up on his feet. He was heavy, the good sort, but I knew that it was going to be difficult to transfer him to his room.

I could have called for Ethan, but somehow, I didn't feel the need to. I could do this myself without having to tell Ethan. He had backed out from the confrontation with Anthony, anyways.

I would have to ask him about that.

It was impressive that Anthony could hold his weight a bit. He had seemed like he didn't have the strength to speak, but he tried his best to stay upright and act strong.

"Let your weight go. I can handle you," I told him. He let out a strangled chuckle and then went silent.

"Of course you can," he replied as we neared the stairs, but he made no move to put his entire weight on me.

So much for trusting me.

He's just trying to act strong.

Egotistical creature, that one.

It took us a few more minutes to manoeuvre ourselves on the stairs and reach his room. He huffed when I leaned away from him to open the door. His weight suddenly fell on me, and my breath whooshed out of my lungs. His head was low and his breathing came harsher. I cursed as I shuffled to the bed with him. I feared that he'd lean away from me and he'd end up falling over.

Once I put him to bed, I rushed to his bathroom and wet his towel. I rushed back and dabbed it at his face until his forehead felt cooler to me. He groaned every now and then, and it did things to me. I didn't like seeing him weak. I had always supposed that seeing him weak would make me feel powerful, but now, it made me feel useless.

I slipped into the bed beside his head and re-positioned his head so that it was on my lap. I frowned as I looked at him try to roll over and snuggle into my stomach. I might have laughed, but it seemed too intimate to me. I supposed that he wasn't doing it consciously, so I didn't need to feel like I should shake him awake or ask him to move away. Hesitantly, I pressed my fingers to his temple and saw that his facial muscles relaxed minutely. Satisfied, I worked whatever magic I could conjure and tried to bring him as much relief as I could. Soon, he had fallen asleep, and I continued with my ministrations. I was drained in a few minutes, my arms ached and legs felt numb from the weight of his head. I tried to move away from him, but he wouldn't let me. I chuckled as I manoeuvred my body to get away from him, but it was no use. His hands awkwardly encircled my waist and he turned his face and pressed it against my tummy.

I just used the word 'tummy.'

"Are you doing this on purpose?" I leaned down and whispered to him.

"No." His body shook as he laughed.

"Anthony," I said, trying my best to put up a stern voice.

"Michael..." he mumbled as if to correct me. My brows scrunched together at first, but then I found myself smiling.

"Michael," I pleaded. "Let me go." He snuggled closer and shook his head.

"I'm sick." He stated. "I'll not let you go." I groaned at his insistence and let it go.

I threaded my fingers through his hair and closed my eyes.

I might as well enjoy this while it lasts.

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