Trigger warning : mentions of self harm/depression (brief)

Remington's sickness returned quickly following the party at Emerson's. The following evening, he sat on the couch with his head in his hands and said to Andy, "Should've fucking listened to you, shouldn't I." 

Beside him, Andy had a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. "Yes, I believe so," he said, and if he wasn't feeling so bad, Remington probably would have laughed at his bluntness. "You are going to stay at home until you are healthy, Remi. You must rest." 

"I know, I know." 

"And you also must stop lying, it is not good."

Remington looked at him, though it hurt to open his eyes. "I only lie a bit," he said weakly. "Not about big things."

"I understand, Remi, but I am worried that lying about little things will breed lying about bigger things. Your brothers already do not know that you harm yourself, or that you are unhappy all the time, or that you don't enjoy your job anymore."

"Thats not lying, it's just withholding the truth."

Andy thought for a moment and said, "Then you will at least stop trying to lie to me, because I know every time."

"When have I lied to you?" He sighed. The light was melting his eyes into hot balls of metal, so he shut them. "Fine. I'll stop lying to you."

"Remi," Andy said. "That in itself was a lie."

"Is your brain just a fucking lie detector mixed with the whole of Google or what?"

"My brain has been carefully created, you know that. I will tell you each time you lie to me, until you stop."

Remington dropped his head to his knees. "Sometimes I hate you," he muttered, and groaned. "God, my muscles feel like they're made of nails and hot water."

It was a lie that Remington sometimes hated him, Andy knew, but let it slide, because he could see that there were more pressing issues, like how to convince Remington to take better care of himself. Care that included more than one hot bath and a few days of on and off sleeping. "You would like to lie down?" He asked. "I will shut the curtains and dim the lights or you will get a migraine."

"Thanks," the singer mumbled, and as Andy stood, he blindly reached for him, grabbed at his arm. "You'll cuddle me after? I need it." He yawned, added, "You can't tell me that was a lie."

"No, that was not a lie. And yes, I will cuddle you after. Lie down."

"You can be very bossy."

"When it is necessary, I am required to be. It is for your health, Remi."

He lay on his side in the couch and groaned again. "Do you have special powers to make me feel nothing? Because everything fucking hurts and I'd like it to stop."

Andy crouched down, made himself level with The Human's face, stroked strands of hair front his forehead. "That is one thing I cannot do, I am afraid. I will get the ibuprofen for you."

"I'll take 'em all and then I really won't feel nothing."

"Remington, I would never let you do that."

For a moment, he smiled. "And that is why you're perfect. Now get me a blanket and some pills and baby the fuck out of me because you're so good at it and I'm so needy."

"Yes you are," Andy agreed. "And bossy, too. We are not so different."

"I wish I had a metal brain."

"Your brain is phenomenal, do not wish for anything else."

Remington smiled sleepily again. "Fucking love you," he half-slurred, his voice weakening into a whisper by the end, and he realised he had ruined his voice by over-singing and taking no care of his body.

Andy noticed this too, and placed a hand flat on his cheek. "I fucking love you, too," he said, and the fact that he could never lie made Remington want to grin, but his face felt like it had been plunged repeatedly into icy water. "Now you will stop talking to save your voice and I will take care 9f you - baby you, as you said - for at least two weeks, and no less. And if you try to go back to work earlier, Remi, I will never fuck you again. Ever."

Wide-eyed, Remington looked at him, then glared, then pulled him closer and whispered, "I love you a little less."

Andy whispered back, "That is a lie."

Later, Remington lay in bed with damp hair that Andy had washed and a headache so severe he had started to cry, and unspeskina - he was aware the cause of his tears - Andy held him, stroked his hair, until the ibuprofen kicked in and he managed to go to sleep.