"Taken Care Of"
By Viridian5
1/29/99

RATING: NC-17.  Berg/Pete.  If m/m interaction bothers you, 
what are you doing here?
SPOILERS: none really. 
SUMMARY: When Berg gets sick, Pete takes care of him.
DISCLAIMERS: All things here are property of Infront 
Productions and Twentieth Century Fox Television.  Anyone who 
thinks I'm infringing or making a cent from this is on drugs.  If 
Pete and Berg were mine, they would be much happier, and Berg 
would have more opportunities for evil fun.
NOTES: For Te and Small Woodinat Creature for encouraging me 
in my madness.  This story has not known the touch of a beta, so 
all mistakes are my own.


===================
"Taken Care Of"
By Viridian5
===================

"You have to eat," Pete said as he tried to waft the fragrance of 
chicken soup in Berg's direction.  //Wait a minute; he can't smell 
anything in the shape he's in.  Damn.//  

Berg looked nauseous.  "I'm not hungry." He sounded as if he 
could barely breathe, and his Ts had turned to Ds.  His hoarse, 
rasping voice, damaged by coughing and a sore throat, had a 
tendency to get choked off every time more gunk closed off his 
throat and breath.

"How can you fight this off if you don't eat?"

"I don't get sick." He sounded extremely pissed off.

Berg looked awful: nose deep red and peeling from frequent 
blowing, lips dried out and chapped, flushed, his usually gleaming 
eyes brighter with the harder glitter of fever.  Pete could feel him 
burning even from a foot away.  At least he wasn't coughing as 
much and the nausea had subsided a bit.  He was so tired and achy 
he just stayed melted on the couch in his nest of pillows, blankets, 
and tissues.

The rumpled hair and pajamas would have been irresistible on 
Berg under other circumstances.

"Sure, you're not sick now.  This is all an hallucination," Pete said.  
Berg stuck out his tongue.  "Maybe it was an administrative error: 
some new, overzealous bug didn't get the memo about you being 
exempt." Pete lifted the spoon.  "C'mon, be a good boy and eat.  
Here comes the choo choo…""

Berg looked like he couldn't decide whether to be enraged or 
amused.  "I'll get you for this."

"You can barely move."

"I have to get better sooner or later.  Then there will be sweet 
retribution."

"You're acting like a baby."

"Am not!" But Berg smiled a little.  "You're enjoying this way too 
much."

"I'm nursing you, aren't I?  Don't complain.  I have to get my jollies 
where I can.  You're a lousy patient."

"And this surprises you because...?"

"Look at this as research.  You get to see what patients feel like."

Berg scrunched down in the covers and blew his nose before 
saying, "I don't care!"

"I guess you are meant to be a doctor." Pete gave Berg an 
exasperated but fond look.  "You know, if this had happened a few 
weeks ago, I'd be sitting here laughing my ass off instead of taking 
care of you."

"So you're saying that, if we weren't sleeping together, you'd find 
my suffering entertaining?" 

"Uhhh, no, not really.  I'd probably still take care of you."

The slow, smug smile made Berg look more like himself.  
"Sucker."

Pete grinned back.  "I'll keep that in mind next time I feel any 
generous impulses for you."

Berg's smile widened, deepened.  Lashes much darker than the rest 
of his hair swept down over glittering eyes.  "You're cute.  Come 
over here."

"You have to be kidding me.  You can barely move."

"You could do all the work." Berg stretched a little and managed to 
look seductive even though he still looked like death warmed over.  
"Take care of me, Pete.  You do it so well."

"Who'll take care of *us* if I get sick?"

"Sharon could."

"That cough medicine must be stronger than I thought."

"OK.  We could seduce Johnny."

"Looking the way you do now?  And what's this 'we,' kemo sabe?"

"With the way I look now and how straight-laced he seems, it 
would have to be the both of us to pull him in."

"If it works, *he'll* get sick.  Who'll take care of the three of us?"

"Sharon has to nurse her own boyfriend, right?"

Pete started to laugh.  "Oh, God, you're insane..."

"We could all move down to her apartment..."

"That has to be one of the most complicated plans I've ever heard 
you suggest."

"The best ones usually are.  And this one has a great side effect."

"Which is?"

"I get sex from just about everybody."

"Suuure..."

"Kiss me, Pete.  Share my disease..."

"Sure, Berg.  Right now.  I love it when you taste of mucus and 
supposedly 'great-tasting raspberry' Formula 44M."

"It has a high alcohol content.  Well, the 44M does.  Oh, hell, the 
mucus probably does too by now.  What's with that look?"

Pete grinned.  "It's pity, Berg."

"I'll take it.  As you can tell from looking at me now, I have no 
pride anymore.  Only you can restore me to myself, Pete."

"Would it really make you happy if I got sick with you?  Or is this 
all about you being horny, and me getting sick would be a side 
effect?"

Berg sighed wetly and looked disgusted.  "I'm obviously not at the 
top of my game.  You should be over here by now."

"Oh, it still works.  A bit." Pete finally abandoned the soup on the 
coffee table and slid over to sit at the foot of the couch.

"What are you up to?"

"Shh.  It sounds like it hurts you to talk."

Pete unbuttoned Berg's pajama top and wrapped his mouth around 
a rosy nipple.  Berg arched and shrieked.  "Damn, you're cold!"

Pete pulled away.  "Do you want me to stop?"

"Hell, no.  Do whatever you want to me.  Please."

Pete kissed his way down Berg's quivering stomach.  The skin's 
fever heat seared his lips, and he felt a surge of sympathy at the 
thought of living inside that inferno.  The bottoms opened easily, 
giving him immediate access.  Berg's cock was even hotter than 
the rest of him, so Pete drew wet spirals on it with his tongue and 
smiled at the resulting moans.

Berg begged for more with hoarse words and the restless, needy 
movements of his worn-down body.  Pete loved to reduce him to 
this, to make him lose control.  Loved to watch him, which seemed 
to increase his pleasure and desire even more in a kind of circuit, 
the two of them feeding back to one another, growing ever 
stronger.

Pete teased the head with his tongue for awhile, then stroked 
Berg's balls as he started to suck.  He evaded his roommate's 
grasping hands with a smile.  As soon as Pete started to hum, Berg 
lost it entirely, spilling into his mouth in a wave of heat.  Pete 
nursed a little while longer before letting it go with one last, loving 
flick of the tongue.  

Pete sat back down on the floor and leaned back against the couch.  
He wanted to kiss and touch and...  He ached for release, but he 
always did around Berg.  He could wait.

"Pete, let me take care of you."

"No, I'm fine."

"I can't see you doing all of this and getting nothing out of it."

"I don't do any of it with the idea of getting anything back." Pete 
smiled up at Berg.  "But I get something anyway."

"Would you... would you let me watch you jerk off?"

//He would...//  "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I couldn't do that in front of you.  In front of anybody."

Berg scrunched down until his eyes were almost level with Pete's.  
"I want to touch you so badly...  I know I can be a pain in the ass, 
but I swear that when I'm better I'll do you right.  And often.  Over 
and over again.  I'll kiss you till you're breathing my air alone.  I'll 
lock you away where no one can bother us and suck you down so 
far my throat will be caressing you.  I want to fuck you until we 
both pass out.  I want you to bury yourself in me so deeply I'll feel 
like I'll never get you out and be separate again, or want to..."

Pete unzipped his now too-tight jeans and took out his cock.  He 
should have known Berg wouldn't play fair.  He started to stroke 
himself, but his own touch was beside the point.  Pete was getting 
off on Berg's skillful obscenities and promises, on the way his 
frayed voice so obviously pained him, but he *had* to say these 
things anyway.  He so obviously wanted to be able to touch...

Pete tried not to close his eyes as the pressure built, but he couldn't 
help himself.  Even so, eyes open or shut, he felt the heat and 
weight of Berg's gaze the same way he felt his own hand. 

"God, I love to see you when you get to the point where you stop 
thinking about what's proper and start about what feels good.  
Your inner slut is one hell of a beautiful boy.  Come for me, Pete.  
I want to see you let go."

Pete came hard, bucking into his own fist.  He could hear Berg's 
pleased purr just under his own moans.  Finally, he leaned back 
again and cleaned himself up with a napkin, relishing the 
scratchiness against his skin.  He certainly wasn't going to use one 
of Berg's tissues.

"You *better* do all of that, Berg."

Berg settled sleepily into his pillows and blankets with a smile, one 
hand stroking through Pete's short hair.  "You take such good care 
of me, Pete."


**********************THE END***********************