Phil hums lightly to himself as he prepares dinner. He places his hands on his hips and stares triumphantly down at his creation. A delicious pizza lays on the counter, ready to be put in the oven. The dough was hand crafted out of their finest ingredients, the meats freshly cut, the veggies picked right out of the garden, and the marinara mixed with their own tomatoes and herbs. It was truly a masterpiece.
"Phil," Dan calls from their small apartment family room, "have you put the frozen pizza in the oven yet?"
"It is not frozen," Phil yells back harshly, fantasy popped. "I created it with my own blood, sweat, and tears."
"I sure hope none of that got into the pizza, Gordon Ramsay," Dan says with a smirk, appearing in the kitchen doorway.
"No one asked for your sass, Dan," Phil sniffs, opening the oven and sliding the pizza onto the rack. "Speaking of sass, how was work today? Make any more patients cry?"
The smirk on Dan's face quickly disappears. "She did not cry," Dan says with a glare, turning his nose up. "She was just... a little upset."
Phil grins. Last night Dan had come home with a very interesting story. A young woman had been admitted to the hospital with a broken arm and Dan had been in charge over her. After doing a check up on her, Dan tried to crack a joke:
"It doesn't look too bad, I'll only have to amputate half your arm."
It appeared the girl wasn't in a very humorous mood for she immediately burst into hysterical tears. It took three nurses 20 minutes to fully calm her down. Meanwhile Dan was getting a thorough scolding from another nurse.
"A little upset," Phil repeated, grin deepening. "Right."
"Okay, Phil," Dan snaps back, "let's talk about the time you thought you made some miraculous discovery but it turned out to just be a blob of cheese that had fallen from your glasses onto the microscope slide."
Phil sticks out his lower lip in a pout. His work was in the field of microbiology: examining viruses, medicines, cells, and other body-related microscopic things. "That's not a fair counter attack, you're the one who made the macaroni."
"And who bought the extra stringy cheese?" Dan says, staring at Phil with a pointed gaze.
"My eyes were tired that day," Phil whines childishly, slumping back against the counter.
"Excuses excuses," Dan says, leaning back against the counter with Phil.
As usual, Phil decides to be the peacemaker and not bring up the time Dan accidentally gave a patient slightly too much morphine. How Dan still had a job was a mystery to him. "Have you gotten any more patients with cardidenturiatus?"
"Cardidenturiatus," Dan repeats with a groan. His demeanor was immediately deflated. "Two more people have come in with it. We're keeping them all in a special ward away from the other patients."
"So that's 15 people in total?" Phil asks, a frown on his face.
Dan nods. "And still no other cases of it anywhere else in the world, at least as far as we know. Let's just hope it stays that way. We still have no idea what's causing it."
Ever since they'd gotten the notice a new disease had been discovered, the lab had been fervently searching to find the cause and cure for it. So far, no luck. It was only a week and a half ago that the first patient had come in, complaining about extreme nausea and a rash. Thinking it was some common illness, the doctors treated the man with some medicine and sent him home. But a few days later the man returned, now in an ambulance. The rash had turned into horribly itchy blotches all over his body. Upon scratching, the itchiness would fire back with more venom than before. On top of that, he was racked with fever that the doctors were unable to bring down.
Since then, more patients began to show up to the hospital with the same illness. "It starts off mild," Dan recounts, staring blankly. "The patient has nausea, maybe diarrhea. There's some itchiness on various parts of the body and fever, but that's about all the symptoms. The itchiness develops into red pustules that burn like fire. Those spread all over the body. Only two of our patients have gotten that far along, but we're sure the other patients are going to follow the same path as time goes on."
Phil sighs and runs a hand along his head. "And we still don't know what's causing it or if it's contagious. All the patients were from this city, right? Maybe it's something in the air here, or the food."
"I don't know," Dan says, leaning his head back against the cabinet. His eyes close, illuminating the dark bags underneath them. "They want me to work longer shifts now, so I'd be getting home around 8."
"Same with the lab," Phil says, crossing his arms over his chest. "I won't be back until 7:30 probably."
"This is what we get for choosing medical careers," Dan says with a small smile. It was a tired smile though, not genuine enough for his dimple to show.
"I love my career choice. I wouldn't have met you if I picked a different one," Phil says genuinely, trying to shift the conversation to something less depressing.
Dan rolls his eyes in disgust. Nevertheless, some of the sparkle returns back to them. "Don't say such embarrassing things."
"Do I embarrass you?" Phil says with a grin, placing his hands on Dan's shoulder and resting his chin on them.
"Is the sky blue? Is grass green? Are dogs cute?" Dan smiles down at Phil, who's brow is furrowed in confusion. He wraps his arms around Phil's chest, pulling the naive man closer to him. "Yes. The answer is yes, you're embarrassing."
"You don't seem to mind the embarrassment very much," Phil comments, now being held in an appreciative embrace.
"You don't seem to mind your mum very much," Dan quips, leaning his head against Phil's. He begins to sway them back and forth, as though they were listening to an imaginary song. Phil shifts in the embrace so that he could rest his head on Dan's chest. They stay that way for a time, swaying to nothing but the constant beating of the other's heart. Phil breathes in Dan's scent, feeling his muscles relax: he smelled like home.
"I miss you so much everyday," Phil mumbles into Dan's shirt. "I don't get to see you nearly enough."
Dan's grip around him tightens. "I know," he says quietly. "I miss you too." When they first started dating, they both knew it was going to be a tough relationship. Both their careers demanded lots of time, no matter what the job was. But while most couples would drift apart because of the separation, it only made them cling tighter together. Not to say there weren't fights and falling outs. There were plenty of those. But amidst the lies and doubts they felt, they both had a common goal tying them together: love.
As if reading Phil's thoughts, Dan asks a question he already knew the answer to. "Do you regret our relationship?"
Phil shakes his head, his hair tickling the base of Dan's neck. "Never. I'll never regret loving you and giving you my heart, even if you decide to crush it."
Dan smiles, pressing Phil's head to his chest with his hand. "You could've just said no, you didn't have to make it so dramatic."
"The mood called for it," Phil says, closing his eyes. Secured in Dan's warm embrace with his hand rubbing comforting circles onto his back, Phil felt like he could fall asleep standing up.
He felt his mind beginning to go sluggish with sleep when suddenly he was jolted awake by the oven's beep. "There's the pizza!" Dan says, grinning down at Phil who was leaning heavily against him. "You alright there, Phil? A little tired?"
Phil nods slowly. "Just a little."
"We could cuddle and just skip dinner-"
"Nope I'm hungry, move out of my way," Phil says, ducking out of Dan's embrace and grabbing a hot pad from the drawer. Dan chuckles and begins to get out plates and cups. They eat their pizza (free of Phil's blood, sweat, and tears) in front of the TV, ironically watching some woman cook a beautiful homemade pizza.
"My pizza suddenly tastes like cardboard," Dan says, looking at the mouth watering pizza on the TV then down to his own flat piece.
"We could make our own pizza sometime, you know," Phil says, pointing to the TV with his slice. "And I'm sure it would look just as great as hers."
"Maybe we should start our culinary career with something a bit easier."
They continue to chat on, conversation naturally flowing between them. It was these precious hours between when they got home from work and before bed that Phil cherished more than anything else in the world. It was the only time he got to sit down and simply talk with Dan. Sure, they called during their breaks, but no warped phone conversation could measure up to hearing Dan's voice in real life, or seeing his face as he animatedly talked.
With a yawn, Dan leans back into the couch and stretches his arms over his head. "We should probably go to bed."
Phil checks the time. It was almost 11; way too late for people who have to be up before dawn. "You're right. I showered before you got home so you should go take one."
Dan puts on a sad expression which reflects into his brown eyes. "I wanted to shower with you."
Phil gets up and begins to clear away their plates to hide the blush growing across his cheeks. He mumbles something right before he leaves the room, "pervert."
Phil grins as he hears Dan gasp dramatically behind him. "What did you just call me?!"
"I said you're perfect," Phil says loudly, smiling more widely. He places their dishes in the sink and puts the leftover pizza in the fridge.
"Liar," Dan yells. Giggling, Phil loads the dishes in their dishwasher, hearing Dan's footsteps walking in the direction of their bedroom. He quickly finishes cleaning up before also heading to their bedroom to get ready for bed. After brushing his teeth and putting on his pajamas, Phil climbs into their shared bed and scrolls on his phone while he waits for Dan. He hears the water shut off and shortly after Dan exits the bathroom with a trail of steam behind him. Phil breathes in the scent of the shampoo, the smell pleasant to him.
Dan climbs into the bed next to him, taking the covers and throwing them over himself. Phil leans over and plugs in his phone to charge, then their bedtime routine begins. Every night they cuddle up into the same position to fall asleep. It had become a habit once they had discovered the position appealed best to both their preferences. Phil would curl up into Dan's chest while Dan's arms would loosely wrap around him, tucked under his head or hanging off his side. Sometimes Dan would slip his hand under Phil's shirt and pinch his side. Phil would retaliate by kneeing Dan in the stomach. Since Dan was slightly taller than Phil, his feet would poke out the end of the blanket if Phil pulled the slack up towards his chin, which he usually did. They discovered the best way to fix this was to drape Dan's legs over Phil's, successfully keeping his feet warm and providing Phil with a secure full body embrace.
Overall, if anyone were to observe them, it would be hard to tell who's limbs belonged to whom.
Once they were comfortably settled into their spot, Phil pokes Dan's cheek to get his attention. "Hey," Phil whispers, breath fanning across Dan's skin, "tomorrow night do you want to go into town? We haven't been out in a long time."
Dan's brown eyes eye him fondly. "Are you asking me on a date, Phil?" His own voice was quiet and filled with adoration.
Phil smiles, winding his hand up Dan's pajama shirt. "If that's what it takes to get you to go, then yes, I am, Dan."
Dan places a kiss on Phil's forehead, warm lips lingering there a moment. "That sounds wonderful."
By morning both would be sprawled out all over the other, blankets thoroughly ruffled and arms and legs unceremoniously thrown in every direction. But in those few moments before they fall asleep, with skin touching skin and warm breaths fanning across flesh, both felt like they were in an entirely different world. Outside of their secured and protected embrace nothing mattered. As far as they knew, everything was right with the world.
It wasn't long after that both of them drifted into a deep sleep, warm and loved.
• • • • • •
"You wanted me?" Dan says, stepping into the head physician's office after a quick knock on the door. The name Ronald F. William is printed on a plaque sat on his desk.
The doctor folds his hands across his desk. "I did. Regarding our special patients-" the patients with the disease, "-some changes need to be made."
Dan waits for him to continue, hands folded nervously behind his back.
"As you know, our main priority right now is to keep the disease as confined as possible. The less people that get it, the easier it'll be to wipe it out." Ronald exhales heavily. "Although I'm all for keeping a positive outlook, I have to look at the data. At the rate they're progressing, I can't expect them to gradually get better like most sicknesses. Jared, our first patient to come in with the disease..." The white haired man solemnly lowers his voice, "If he continues to get worse, I estimate he only has about 2 weeks more to live."
Dan was stunned. Only two weeks to live? It was true that all the patients had only continued to get worse. The pustules had not stopped but had continued to spread all over his body. Recent tests had even shown that they were starting to develop in his lungs, causing short and restricted breathing. But despite him getting worse and worse, Dan had kept hope that a cure would be found. But no, without even having the disease for 3 weeks, he would be dead.
"Sir..." Dan says quietly, unsure of what to say.
The doctor spares him having to think of something. "In light of all that, I'm going to assign certain doctors and nurses to be in their ward and their ward only. We don't know what's causing it, so it's best to limit the interaction of people in contact with it."
"If we don't know what's causing it," Dan says with worry, "how do we know the doctors and nurses aren't in danger of getting it by being constantly exposed to the disease?"
"There is that," Ronald says, looking far more tired than his years. "The truth of the matter is that we have to assume that all doctors are in danger of the disease right now. If everyone has the possibility of contracting the disease, then it's best to try and limit the numbers that end up catching it. It may seem selfish and heartless... but I feel it's necessary."
Dan clenches his hands, his fingers digging into his skin. He mentally prepares himself. "And you called me in here because I'm one of the doctors being assigned."
One look from the doctor is all it took to confirm.