Dinner didn’t progress to sex. Chad sat in the tub in the bathroom fully dressed, reading a book instead of falling into bed with Skip, despite what he’d said. There were two beds in the room. He wouldn’t actually have to sleep with him if he didn’t want to. And he wasn’t sure, if he was supposed to want to.

Hell, he wasn’t sure if he wanted sex. Or how he wanted it. He had no damned clue what he was doing. He’d had his dick sucked a grand total of once. And sucked a dick the same number of times. He wanted. He feared the wanting.

Some Marine he was. Afraid of getting his rocks off. Yeah, that was him.

He went through Skip’s bag after Skip had passed out for the night, and found a worn-out paperback. He wasn’t sleepy. He’d slept long enough in the car to last him a while. Skip needed the sleep. He was driving. Chad didn’t want to keep him awake. The book was one he’d read a few years ago about a serial killer targeting Girl Scout camps. It was supposedly based on a true story. He’d been about nineteen when it came out, and hadn’t deployed on his first tour yet. The book had scared the shit out of him, so much so that he couldn’t read anything else by the author.

He leafed through the well-worn book noticing that Skip had made notes in the margins.

“Not creepy at all,” he whispered, his voice bouncing off the tile. Maybe it wasn’t Skip who’d made the notes. Maybe he’d simply picked up the book second-hand somewhere; it was an old copy. Or… maybe Skip had spent too much time in the woods and had a true crime fetish.

It was coming up on midnight when Chad yawned, and closed the book. It was getting to the point where the counselors were about to discover the grisly tent scene, and he didn’t need that in his brain before going to bed.

He climbed out of the tub and padded quietly out to the bedroom. He put the book back in Skip’s bag, and stripped down to his boxers and dog tags. Skip tossed on the bed, kicking the covers off, he sweated and moaned. His skin was flushed.

“Chad?” he called from the bed, but didn’t open his eyes. Chad didn’t know if he was even awake, or if he was talking in his sleep.

“Yes, Sir,” he answered, wondering if the man would moan again. He didn’t. He tossed over onto his back and lay there, leg bent over the twisted-up covers. “Skip?”

Skip’s eyes flashed open. He stared at the ceiling, his breathing too rapid. Not creepy at all. “It’s really hot in here,” he said after a long, terrifying moment.

“It’s not hot; it’s actually cold,” Chad said, walking over to his bedside. Skip blinked up at him and tried to focus. He didn’t focus at all. “Hey.” Chad reached down placing the back of his hand on Skip’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Mommy, my head hurts,” Skip said, his voice small and frightened.

“And hallucinating. Crap.” Chad sighed loudly, hearing it in the silence of the room. He had no idea where they were, or who to call, or where Skip’s cabin was located, to get him home.

Skip rolled onto his side in the fetal position and moaned weakly.

“Shit,” Chad swore. He wasn’t prepared for this. “Okay… Tylenol and a cold shower.”

“Mommy,” Skip’s voice was high-pitched and not creepy at all.

“I’m not your mom, Skip.” Chad crouched down beside the bed and tried to get Skip to roll to face him. “Okay, man, you gotta help me out here. I’m not good at taking care of stuff like this.”

Skip rolled over and looked at him with glassy eyes. He moaned again, and blinked rapidly. “Chad… I hurt.”

“You’re feverish too,” Chad sighed in relief at the recognition in Skip’s eyes. “And calling me, Mommy.”

Skip snorted and tried to laugh. “You don’t look a thing like my mother. Your hair isn’t long enough.”

Chad remembered the conversation from two nights back. The man’s mother had died from pneumonia and right now Chad didn’t know, but this was looking like something almost that bad. “Body aches and high fever… this isn’t pneumonia, is it? Do I need to take you to a hospital?”

Skip’s eyes went wide, then vague again. His laugh died away. “No, sounds like the flu. Hit me fast. Too fast.”

Chad nodded and looked around the room trying not to panic. “We need to get your fever down. Or let you ride it out.”

“I have Ibuprofen in my bag. Helps with the back aches that go along with fifty-pound backpacks.” Skip kicked off the rest of his covers and tried to sit up. Chad reached out, and grabbed his hands, helping him pull himself upright.

“Okay,” he said once Skip was sitting on the bedside. He dragged the bag over to Skip with the book still sitting on the top, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Which pocket?”

“Stuffed in the bottom.” Skip shivered violently, still sweating. “Now I’m freezing. What the fuck?”

“Flu.” Chad unzipped his bag all the way and dug under the clothing to the bottom. He found a baggie of bottles and things in it and pulled it out. It was full of medications and toiletries. “You take your camping seriously.”

“Only way to take it,” Skip muttered, trying for a joke. “I think I’m going to throw up now.”

“Okay.” Chad was in familiar territory now. He dragged Skip off the bed and helped him to the bathroom and the toilet. He sat on the side of the tub, rubbing the man’s back while the turkey sub came back up, and the tub filled with water.

It wasn’t cold water, but it wasn’t warm either. Skip lay his arm over the toilet seat and rested his head. His eyes fluttered closed; his breathing became less labored. He looked like he was falling asleep. His back was cool to the touch now. “Hey, Skip, don’t fall asleep.”

“Can’t really help it right now. I’m…” his eyes flew open, and he barely managed to get the next round of sick into the toilet. “Oh god, kill me now.”

Chad chuckled low in his throat. He’d been there a few times, mostly from too much drinking. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You’re cooling down now.” More retching followed.

When he was puked out, Chad helped him out of his clothes, and into the tub. Putting in more hot water when he shivered. He’d wondered what Skip would look like naked. He wished he’d found out another way. Skip sat in the tub with his knees drawn up to his chest. His skin still warm to the touch, but he shivered. “Think you can keep the pills down?” Chad asked, wondering what he was supposed to do now.  “Is the water too cold?”

“Yeah,” Skip answered, leaning back against the wall, his long legs unfolding as he relaxed. “And no. It’s fine.”

“Okay, I’m going to get the pills and some water. Don’t go anywhere,” he said wincing at how stupid that sounded.

Skip laughed again; this time he looked like he thought it was funny. “Nowhere else to be right now.”

Chad averted his eyes from the man’s nudity as he sank into the water, and propped his feet on the wall. His midsection exposed… Chad averted his gaze to his long legs… covered with a light smattering of strawberry-blond hairs… the same color as those between his legs. It was Chad’s turn to shiver. And Skip noticed. This laugh different from the last one. It was husky and almost seductive.

“If I had the energy, I’d give you what your eyes are asking for,” Skip said, his voice steadier now. “That’s why we got a room, wasn’t it? To finish what you started on the side of the road?”

Chad held onto the door frame, his knuckles going white, as he fought away the shame that rose to punch him in the gut. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, old man.”

There was silence from the tub. Chad looked up in time to see Skip frown, and look up at the ceiling, as if he were about to convulse or something. He sighed instead. “Just remember that last part. I am an old man compared to you.”

Chad turned away. His chest felt tight. He couldn’t really catch his breath for a long moment. For a second, he wondered if he was coming down with the same flu symptoms. He wasn’t achy or feverish, and he’d been out in the storm the first night, as well as the snow. He felt fine otherwise.

The pain passed, and he went through Skip’s bag of goodies, looking for the pain pills. He took those, and grabbed the green tea still sitting on the table, and took it in. “We’re out of water bottles.”

Skip looked up at him with pain and a flicker of fire in his eyes. He sat up and took the pills from Chad; then downed the entire bottle of tea. “Not so fast. You don’t want it to come back up,” Chad admonished, wincing as he heard his mother’s voice. He took the bottle and tossed it in the trash. Skip wouldn’t look at him. He sat up, and unplugged the tub, and stepped out dripping wet. Chad leaned over, and pressed his forehead against the now cool belly flesh, and closed his eyes tight. Skip’s hand in his hair startled him. “I’m sorry,” Chad said, even though he didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

“So am I,” Skip whispered, dragging the towel off the rack, and wrapping it around his waist. “So am I, Kid.”

Chad stood up then, pressing his body to Skip’s. He shivered, not because of fever. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Skip’s eyes were clear when Chad kissed him. They smoldered when Chad stepped away. Skip cast his gaze to the floor and nodded.

Chad turned off the bathroom light, and followed him into the room, and climbed into bed with him. He turned off the bedside light, and fixed the blankets. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His heart pounding so hard he could feel it in every part of his body. Skip sighed again, his face pressed into the crook of Chad’s neck, as he gave in and settled down. Chad wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder and curled into him. He didn’t fall asleep until Skip’s breathing eased in a regular rhythm. “I could love you,” he whispered, surprising himself.

“I know,” Skip whispered sleepily against his skin. His long fingers skimming along Chad’s back, and under his shorts to grip his ass. “That’s why we can’t do this.”

“Doesn’t make the wanting stop,” he whispered in reply, but Skip didn’t answer. He slept. Chad let himself go to sleep now that the worst of it had passed.

He woke up before dawn, soaked in sweat and burning up. He rolled Skip onto his side, and helped him to the bathroom to throw up all the tea, and try to get down more pain pills. When he was cool again, Chad turned the covers down on the unused bed, and put him in, and held him until he stopped shaking.

“I could love you too,” Skip whispered, as the sun came up. He held Chad’s hand pressed against his belly. “It’ll hurt too much when you leave.”

“What if I stay?” He couldn’t help but wonder who’d hurt this man.

“No one stays for very long.” Skip turned in his arms, his skin cooling as sleep once again claimed him. He opened his eyes, as if a thought occurred to him out of the blue. “Stay… please.”

Chad only nodded and went back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, Skip was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He didn’t flinch when Chad reached out to touch him. “You’re still hot.”

“I threw up again. I figure I’ve got a couple of hours before the next bout. I’d like to throw up in my own bathroom, if that’s okay with you?” Skip said, his voice hoarse and weak from the vomiting. “Just get me home, Chad. Please.”

Chad threw off the covers, and went into the bathroom to relieve himself, and brush his teeth. He dressed in the clothes he’d worn the day before, and helped Skip pull on a sweat suit, and a pair of beat-up driving moccasins. He packed their things, and cleaned up their trash, and put Skip in the passenger seat, while he went into the lobby to check out.

When he came back out, Skip was stretched out on the seat. He was so pale; his usually unnoticeable freckles were standing out dark on his face. The red of his lashes so much darker against his pallor.

He backed out of the parking lot, and with the assistance of the GPS mounted on the dashboard, he drove the man home.