Chapter 15
Dean
Dean struggled to stay focused. He’d been working in his studio for over an hour, but he couldn’t get this chord progression and rhythm just right.
Creating a song from scratch was a long, tedious process.
Using software with instruments required manually performing or building each segment and meticulously laying every single note and phrase, one at a time, then arranging them into a complete, logical format, and finally ending with a, hopefully, good song.
For Dean, it usually came naturally and was an enjoyable process. It was his therapy, his meditation. It kept him focused, not allowing his mind to wander off on nonsensical tangents.
If he wasn’t careful, Dean could let himself spiral into unhealthy, obsessive patterns. He tended to mentally fixate on small issues, making them much larger than they needed to be. The phrase “beating a dead horse” was probably created specifically for Dean.
Unfortunately, music wasn't always effective when it came to saving himself from…well, himself. Today was not the case. It just wasn’t working, like a musical version of writer’s block.
And Dean was beginning to get frustrated.
He slammed his hands down on the piano, creating a hideous, cacophonous noise before screaming ”FUUUUCCKK! "
Mercifully, the phone rang, pulling Dean back from the brink…somewhat.
His mood lifted when he saw the name on the screen, a smile flashing across his face as he answered the call.
“Hey, Colton. What’s up?”
“Hey. Look, I’m gonna have to cancel for tonight,” Colton said with a gravelly voice. “I’m really sick. I have a high fever and I’m waiting on an Uber to pick me up from practice.”
“Yeah, you sound awful. Is Sophie going to take care of you?”
“No, Sophie is in Milan for a fashion show. I’m just going to go home and go to bed.”
Colton barely got the words out before he fell into a horrible coughing fit.
“Tell the Uber to bring you here. You can stay with me until you’re feeling better.”
“Nah, it’s ok. I’m just going to go home.”
“Nonsense! You have a high fever. What if something happens and you need help? You’re coming here. I insist.”
Another coughing fit.
“Fine,” Colton grumbled. “I’ll see you in a few.”
A short while later, Dean answered the door to a pale, sickly looking Colton. “Man, you look like complete shit!”
“Thank you. You're a dick.” Colton stumbled inside.
“Come on, I’ve got the guest suite ready for you.” Dean led Colton around the corner to the guest suite behind the kitchen.
There was a king bed with luxurious, cozy looking bedding in light and dark blue.
Side tables stood on each side of the bed, framed by massive windows with spectacular views of the bay.
A large wall-mount TV sat opposite the bed and a small sitting area and reading nook, all bathed in tones of blue, cream, and gold, rounded out the space.
Dean gave Colton a quick tour of the bathroom and led him back to the bed.
“Okay…” Dean pulled back the bedding. “Let’s get you into bed. Do you need to change clothes?”
“No.” Colton dropped his bag, groaned, and collapsed onto the bed.
Dean gasped at the sight of Colton’s ass, on full display in front of him. So close, yet so far. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching out and grabbing a handful.
Dear God, what a glorious sight!
Colton rolled over and wriggled under the covers, pulling the comforter up to his chin with an adorable pout.
Dean put his hand on Colton’s forehead. “Christ! You’re burning up.” He grabbed the digital thermometer he'd pulled out of the medicine cabinet and quickly swiped it over his forehead. “102.3. Did you take any medicine?”
Colton shook his head.
Dean rushed into the bathroom and returned fumbling with the cap of a small bottle. “Here, take this.” He shoved a cup of medicine into Colton’s mouth.
“Geez, you’re bossy! But I am sorry to inconvenience you.” Colton pouted.
“Shut up. You’re not an inconvenience. I’m working on some new music and I'm starting to plan my world tour next summer, and I do all that from right here at home. So, don’t worry.
Now, get comfortable and get some rest. There’s water and juice here on the side table.
I’ll come back to check on you a little later.
Yell if you need anything.” Dean pulled the blanket back to its position under Colton’s chin and slipped out of the room.
***
Colton
Colton sniffed the clean, fresh scent of the bedding and snuggled under the warm blanket. It felt nice, but Colton wasn’t sure it was the best idea.
On the one hand, he felt like dogshit, and he just wanted to go home and go to bed. The idea of someone —Dean— taking care of him while he was sick was an alluring thought.
On the other hand, his strange feelings and actions around Dean lately had his mind doing backflips. Should Colton be around Dean in his sick, diminished state, especially if he’s going to be drugged up on medication? Could he trust himself not to say or do something stupid or inappropriate?
Another intense coughing attack answered the question for him. He was in no state to care for himself. He needed Dean to nurse him back to health. And in spite of how shitty he felt right then, that thought produced a smile as the medicine took effect and he drifted off to sleep.
He recalled Dean checking on him several times, touching his forehead and tracking his fever, but he had been in and out of consciousness and couldn't be sure just how often it had been.
Once again, Dean entered and sat on the bed. Colton slowly opened his eyes.
“Morning, sunshine. How you feelin’?” Dean asked with an intolerably perky grin.
“Not good.” Colton moaned quietly as he slid up to sit against the headboard.
“Still warm.” Dean put his hand on his forehead and grabbed the thermometer. “101.1. Okay, that’s a little better. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, I could eat something.”
“I made you some homemade chicken soup.” Dean smiled proudly. “Would you like some?”
Colton hated being sick, and he hated having to rely on someone else, but as much as he was loath to admit it, having Dean take care of him felt really good. “That sounds nice.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” As Dean stood, Colton grabbed his wrist.
“Why are you going to all this trouble, being so nice to me?”
Colton wasn’t used to this sort of kindness. He was used to expectations. The only time anyone was this generous to Colton was usually when they wanted something from him. He’d been getting to know Dean, and they were becoming friends, but still, he was skeptical.
Dean paused a moment and cracked a smile. “Because you’re letting me.” He slightly leaned forward, eyebrows raised, as if he was waiting for something.
“What?” Colton asked, confused.
“You don’t know what that’s from?”
“What what’s from?”
“Why are being so nice to me? Because you’re letting me. You don’t know what movie that’s from?”
Colton shook his head. “Nuh uh”
“Ugh!” Dean scoffed. “The Breakfast Club!”
“Never saw it.”
“Oh my God!” Dean exclaimed loudly and punched his shoulder. “It’s one of the greatest movies of all time. I’m gonna force you to watch it while you’re being held captive.”
Colton started to laugh, which turned into a string of coughs. “Fine.”
Dean returned a few minutes later with a tray of soup, bread, water, and juice.
Colton inhaled the delicious scent of the soup and brought the spoon to his mouth. He let out a filthy moan as he loudly slurped his spoon. “Oh my God, this soup is delicious!”
“Thanks! It’s my own special recipe.” Dean grinned proudly.
“So, you said you’re planning a world tour?” Colton asked as he shoveled another big spoonful of soup into his mouth.
“Yup! My very first world tour.”
Colton smiled. “How long is a world tour?”
“Do you mind?” Dean pointed to the bed. Colton nodded and Dean sat on the edge of the bed next to Colton.
“Well, it depends on the artist. Longer tours can run thirty-five to forty weeks. I guess mine would be considered a smaller tour, because it’s only twelve weeks, and twelve different cities.
But I’ll be playing huge stadiums and arenas, which is a first for me.
Normally, I play smaller venues, but Bayside Grooves proved I can go bigger. ”
“Are you nervous about that?” Colton tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into his soup.
“Petrified!” Dean admitted with a smirk.
“I doubt that. You love to perform.” Colton smirked.
Dean chuckled, then picked up the napkin from the tray and dabbed the soup off of Colton’s chin.
“I do. It’s very exciting, picking the cities and venues.
I’m opening at Madison Square Garden in New York City, then it’s Wembley Stadium in London, Rome, Paris, Toronto, Vancouver, here at Levi’s stadium” —Dean poked Colton’s chest— “then L. A., Miami, Atlanta, Washington D.C., and closing at Soldier Field in Chicago.”
“Wow. That sounds like a lot of work and planning.”
“It is! But luckily, I have Jordan, and a great production team. We’re basically gonna expand the show you saw at Bayside Grooves with a much bigger stage, more video screens…you know, bigger!” Dean accentuated, swinging his arms.
“Is bigger necessarily better?” Colton lifted an eyebrow as he sipped his juice.
Dean leaned forward. “Depends on who you ask?” He winked, waggling his eyebrows.
“You’re such a dork.” Colton rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh.
“There he is! There’s my boy! The medicine’s working!” Dean gave Colton a gentle shove.
Colton chuckled and coughed a little.
Dean gathered the tray and rose from the bed. “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. When you’re feeling better, feel free to move around the loft. Mi casa es su casa.” Dean smiled, softly singing as he headed to the kitchen.
A few hours later, Dean checked Colton’s temperature, to find it had dropped down to 100.5.