Michael was fussing. A lot. Paris knew he was fussing, but he seemed okay with it. Which was a relief, because Michael didn't know any other way to tackle this but do what he has always done - care for Paris. At the same time, Paris wasn't feeling well enough to have everything in order here. Even if hadn't been physically sick (yet), he was visible weak and pale. Michael was proud of his husband, though. All things considered, he had been hit with two hard blows this past couple of weeks. Although he was yet to talk about - or mention - the latter, he was holding it together the best he could.

He tucked the blankets a little more snug around Paris. "I know, sweetie. But we're just going to weather it together. Let me just ask the nurse if you can have something for the pain." He stepped out into the corridor and found the nurse Paris had been assigned today. He asked if Paris could have something for his head, and possibly something that might help with him feeling sick. He also asked if he was allowed to lie on the bed with Paris because he was so cold. "Okay, you'll have to scoot over a bit, babe. We've got free reign to do what we like, but I'm assuming that means nothing naughty," he joked, giving Paris a sympathetic smile.