Oreos for Breakfast: Chapter 29

Thanks to Baby Frick for the chapter graphic!

Oreos For Breakfast: Chapter 29
By the Paperbag Princess and Pumpkin Coach

My phone rang and I grabbed it gratefully. I was tired of listening to Jeremy complain about how we needed more ‘punch’ on "Pretend to be Nice." James and Darien agreed with me, because they were currently torturing him.

"I think it needs more spark," offered James.

"No. Definitely more pizzazz."

"Spunk?"

"Leave it to the gay boy to come up with ‘spunk’."

I let them argue it out and answered my phone. We’d been in New York all week rehearsing for the European tour later this month and the togetherness was getting to us. I didn’t want to rehearse this song again! We seemed to play it just fine a month ago and I wasn’t quite sure what Jeremy thought was so horrible about it now.

"Hey, bunny." I smiled as I answered my phone, turning away from my band for a moment.

"Hey, Rache," he answered, and then started coughing. I let him finish, rolling my eyes as Jeremy tried to argue with James and Darien. Did he not know better than to reason with them when they got this way?

"You sound like hell."

"I know," he whined. "They’re making me go home."

‘Home’ was currently our suite at the amazing hotel Jive was paying for. Well, the amazing hotel that Jive would recoup from Nick’s solo album eventually. I tried to convince him to get a smaller room, but it was pretty nice, so I didn’t argue much. We’d been here for two weeks rehearsing while Nick was recording.

It had been a nice couple of weeks. We were almost like a normal couple. Well, except for the living in a hotel room part. But we’d both go off to work in the morning, and come home to each other at night. Some nights we stayed in, and some nights we’d go out to dinner with my band, or the producers he was working with, or just by ourselves. I knew it was only for a little while, but it was really nice to be working, and still get to be with my boy every night.

Nick’s solo album was really happening, which seemed weird to me. I think it did to him, too. When we were at the AMAs, Kevin didn’t even mention it, so I wasn’t sure if the guys knew that Nick was really doing an album on his own, not just writing in the studio for Backstreet. I couldn’t quite imagine the fellas liking what he was doing now. I loved it, but it didn’t call out for their amazing harmonies. It was all Nick.

"I can’t imagine you’re singing real well right now, baby." Speaking of harmonies.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I suck. They told me to go home until I feel better. So, you might want to stay with James tonight."

I hesitated, confused. "Why would I want to do that?"

"You don’t need to get my cold, Rache."

"Um, we’ve slept together every night for the last couple weeks. I imagine I’ve been exposed to whatever infected you already. I’ll be fine."

"But you’ve got to get ready for Europe."

I considered my band. They were still bickering. Was James holding Jeremy’s guitar hostage now? Oh, I didn’t want to know.

"Vim!" Darien yelled.

"It needs more vigor!" James countered.

Jeremy was sitting on the drum riser, his head in his hands. He’d given up.

Practice was over for the day.

"Do you not want me to come home, bunny? Are you a person that likes to be alone when you’re sick?"

"No, but… I shouldn’t pass it on to you."

I had a sudden image of a younger Nick, alone in some far away hotel room, not allowed near the other guys for fear of getting them sick, too. He probably just wanted his mom, and instead he was by himself, oceans away from home, knowing he needed to be working.

Parts of his childhood were pretty lonely, and sometimes I needed to give that kid a hug. "I’ll survive a little cold, Nick. Where are you now?"

"In a cab."

He was really sick. I’d taught him how to use the subway last week and now it was his favorite thing. He said it made him feel like a real New Yorker. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was never going to blend in here. I don’t know how, but somehow he’d managed not to lose his tan from the week we’d spent in Florida and LA. Me? One hour back in thirty degree weather and I was a pale as a ghost. It was so unfair.

"Go back to the hotel, baby, and I’ll be there soon. I’ll make you chicken soup and we’ll lie on the couch and watch TV all night."

He was quiet for a second, and I wondered if he was trying to find a way to say that he wanted to be alone. "I love you," he finally said, and I smiled.

"Love you, too. I’ve got to make a few stops on the way back, but I’ll be there soon."

I hit Rachel’s number on my phone and heard it ring as the door opened. Damn. She was here.

"Hey, honey, I’m home!" she called out, as I heard her dropping a bunch of bags on the kitchen counter right inside the door. "No need to call me."

"I’m out of tissues." I sounded whiney, even to myself. I was almost surprised I could hear myself at all. I felt like I was underwater, my head was so stuffed up.

Before I could sit up from where I was lying on the couch, she was next to me, with a huge box of tissues. The good kind, even. I hugged them to my chest, making her laugh. "You are a mess," she told me, ruffling my hair.

"How did you know I’d need tissues?"

"Because you’re sick, and even in the good hotels, they have crappy tissues. Here." She took away the trashcan near me that was already overflowing with used tissues, and brought me an empty one. I sneezed, and she took the box I was holding and opened it for me. She handed it back in time for me to grab a handful and blow my nose.

I hated being sick.

Once I stopped sneezing, I fell back onto the couch, moaning. Rachel kneeled next to me, feeling my forehead. "You are burning up, bunny."

"It must be the flu."

Shaking her head, she stood up. "I doubt it. I think it’s just a bad cold. Lie here for a few minutes, and I’ll run a bath. You’ll feel better when you get out of these sweaty clothes."

I hadn’t even changed when I got back here. I’d just found a box of tissues and fell onto the couch. "Will you come with me?"

She considered me for a second. "I’ll put you in the tub, and then make the soup. I’ll wash your hair before you get out. How’s that?"

"You are the best girlfriend in the world."

"I know." She smirked, leaving me, and I heard the water running a few seconds later. I fumbled for the remote and switched off the TV. I couldn't concentrate enough to pay attention to the TV, but I liked hearing Rachel move around the room, doing things to take care of me. I could hear her putting away her stuff. Her coat and guitar went in the closet next to the door that led out to the hotel. She kicked off her shoes, and they'd be sitting in the living room next to the chair tomorrow morning when she needed them. Where the hell were my shoes? What had I done with my coat?

"You really feel horrible, don't you, Nicky?"

"Yes," I answered, raising my head to look at her. She was hanging my coat up in the closet.

"Because you just dropped your coat on the chair there. And I found your scarf and your hat and gloves, so you must be cold."

I never wore all that stuff. I hated putting it all on. The city was now littered with hats and gloves that I’d taken off and forgotten. "The scarf is Josh's. I didn't have one, and he made me take his."

"That was good of him."

"I'm freezing," I complained, dropping my head back on the couch. It hurt to move.

"A nice hot bath will help. Then we'll have chicken soup, and I got biscuits to bake up."

"Biscuits?"

"They're cheddar something. I think they might be like the ones you get at Red Lobster."

"I love those." I sighed. "But I won't be able to taste them."

Chuckling, she came back over to me. "You are totally pathetic. I've got something to put in your bath that might help you breathe."

"A new nose?"

She giggled. "No. It's a bath powder, and its got eucalyptus and stuff in it. I've used it, and it helps. I'll be back in a minute, so gather your energy to get off the couch."

"Do I have to?"

"If I could bring the tub to you, I would. But even I am not that good."

When she came back a couple of minutes later, I still hadn't moved. I couldn't breathe. How could I move? "Come on," she ordered, taking my hands and pulling me up. "In two minutes, you'll be in a nice hot bath."

"Just give me a blanket. I'm okay here."

"You'll feel better if you listen to me."

"Okay." I gave in. Whatever. I could not breathe on the couch or in the tub. At least if I was in the tub, Rachel was happy. I wasn't ever going to be happy again, so I should make her happy. I let her pull me up, and followed her back to the bedroom. My head ached and my feet felt like lead. Just walking was an effort. How did I ever make it back here from the studio?

She opened the door to the bathroom, and steam floated out. Pulling me inside, she shut the door again quickly. It was warm and humid in here, candles catching the clouds of steam. Was she trying to kill me? How hot was that bath? She must have caught my expression, because she laughed as she yanked at my sweater. "Don't worry. I ran the shower super hot, but the tub is tolerable."

She was the smartest woman I'd ever met. I let her undress me, and then she led me over to the tub. The water was perfect as I stepped into it. "That's nice."

"Good. Here, lean back." She arranged a towel behind my shoulders, and I settled back with a sigh. "You feel good?"

"No. But this helps."

"I'll be back in a minute with some orange juice. Want a magazine or something?"

"No. I can't concentrate on anything. Orange juice would be nice, though."

"Be right back." She left the room, taking a little of the steam with her. She was amazing. I could already breathe a little better.

I left the soup to simmer and went into the bedroom, looking for pajamas. Nick had those bunny pjs I'd gotten him for Christmas, didn't he? He never wore them, preferring to lounge around in sweatpants, but I was pretty sure I'd packed them for him when we left Florida.

I found them in one of the drawers of his dresser. He'd be glad for warm flannel pjs now. I tossed them in the dryer, so they'd be warm when he got out of the tub, and then knocked on the bathroom door. "Can I come in?"

"Quick. I don't want any cold air from out there." He'd jacked the heat up to 80 when he came home, and I hadn't adjusted it. It was far from cold in our hotel room right now. Still, I stepped inside the room quickly, closing the door behind me.

"You need more steam."

"I need you to join me in the tub, then I'll be hot." He attempted to leer at me, but ended up coughing instead.

"Like you're any good to me in this condition?" I turned the shower on again with hot water, and then pulled off my clothes. He didn't even notice, lying back in the tub with his eyes shut. I took a minute to get the shampoo and then to drape towels over the heated towel rack. I loved that thing. It reminded me of being in England. Everyone in England had heated towel racks, even the lousy hotels.

Everything arranged to my liking, I made him sit up before I sat on the ledge of the tub behind him, easing my feet into the water. I expected it to be steaming hot, but it was barely lukewarm.

"Aren’t you cold, bunny?" I asked him. "I think you need more hot water." Had I used up all the hot water running the shower? Damn. Didn't nice hotels have unending supplies of hot water?

"Do I? I can’t tell."

He was so pathetic. "Lean up and let a little of this cold water out," I told him.

"But I’m comfortable here," he whined, and I couldn’t help but laugh at him.

"Alright, whiney boy." I got out, making him whine again.

"But I’m comfy because you’re here…"

"Tough," I told him, opening the drain before going over to turn off the shower.

"I like the steam," he said.

"We’ve got plenty of steam, baby. Now let’s get a little heat." I turned on the hot water as he groaned, but I was pretty sure that was because of my bad joke.

We were quiet for a minute, until I decided that the water was hot enough and rejoined him in the tub. Settling back into my spot, I put my feet in the water with a smile. "Much better."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Are you gonna wash my hair now?"

"Yes, sickie. Are you always this whiney when you’re sick?"

"Dunno…" he considered for a moment while I wet his hair. Once I was massaging his head, he spoke again. It was sorta amazing, the power I had when I washed his hair.

"I don’t usually get sick, I guess. I don’t have time."

"Everyone gets sick, baby."

He shrugged. "Yeah… but I’m always working, so I can’t be whiney about it."

"What about when you were little?"

I let him ponder this while I rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. When I started rubbing his head again, he answered.

"When we were kids, Mom and Dad always had to work when we were sick."

"So you had to take care of yourself?"

"Sorta. Mom worked right next door, so she’d check on me. I got to sleep in their bed when I was sick, because they had a TV in their room."

"That’s cool, right?"

"Yeah, that was fun. She’d make me drink lots of orange juice, like you are."

I laughed. "So, I’m like your mom now?"

He turned around, smiling up at me. "Please don’t talk about her when you’re naked in the tub with me."

I kissed him. "Am I the best nurse ever?"

She was the best nurse ever. My pajamas were warm. When we got out of the tub, she ran out and got our pjs from the dryer, where’d they’d been warming up. I snuggled under a blanket on the couch, waiting for her to bring me chicken noodle soup. How did I get so lucky?

"Do you like lots of noodles, bunny?"

"Yes, please."

She came in a minute later, with a tray of soup and bread and drinks. "I think I may have made too much soup."

"How much did you make?"

"More than I can store, so eat up."

"It’s really good, Rache. Thank you."

She smiled at me. "No problem. It’s not as good as my dad’s, though."

"Your dad made chicken soup?" I wasn’t sure if my dad could open a can.

"Dad was a great cook. This is his recipe. He’d make it, then put all the chicken in a bowl, noodles in another, then the vegetables, so we could each make it the way we wanted."

"Did you do it that way?"

She shrugged, blowing on a bite of soup. "That’s part of the recipe. I didn’t have time to make real stock, though, and had to use the stuff in a box."

"Would he have been horrified?"

"Nah. He cheated sometimes, too. Just don’t tell Mom that."

I laughed. "Why not?"

"Chicken soup was Dad’s thing. Once I was helping him make it and he told me not to tell Mom that he used canned broth, because he liked to keep up the illusion."

"You never told her?"

She considered for a second. "I don’t think I did. That’s funny. You might be the only person I’ve ever told."

"I’ll never tell."

She smiled at me. "It’s okay. I bet she figured it out. Did I ruin the soup for you?"

"I’m impressed it’s not from a can, Rache. It’s great. So when you were sick when you were a kid, did your dad stay with you?"

"Sometimes…" She thought about it for a second, taking a biscuit and dipping it in her soup. "Like your mom, they worked about ten yards from home, so neither one stayed with me all day. But I'd usually get sick in the winter, and the winery was quiet then, so they'd check in a lot. Mom would make me tea with honey in the morning, and Dad would set up the fort on the living room couch…"

"The fort?" I asked her, and she set down her soup bowl, taking an edge of my blanket and pulling it up, tucking it between the back of the couch and the wall.

"A blanket fort, like this. Very cozy." I raised an eyebrow at her and she pouted at me untucking it quickly. "I was ten!"

She settled back into her corner of the couch. "So I'd sit there and watch cartoons and videos all day. This was the days before remote controls, so Mom would turn on cartoons in the morning and then at some point it would get changed to MTV. Mom or Dad would stop in every hour or so and see how I was."

"Really? I was lucky if Mom checked on me twice."

Rachel rubbed my knee, attempting to sooth me. "Was it lonely?"

"Rache, I had four brothers and sisters. Being sick was the only time I got to be alone! It was lonely later, when we were on the road, and I had to stay in my hotel room so I wouldn't get the other guys sick. Which never worked, because someone always got it anyway."

"Sorry," she said softly, and I smiled at her.

"It's okay. This might make up for all of that."

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