When Morgan had been tossing and turning all night, you immediately knew something was wrong. One minute he had his arms draped over you, cuddled up close with the duvet over him. The next, he was far away, the duvet kicked completely off of him as he tried to cool down.
You’d had your suspicions over the past few days that he was coming down with a cold, but him being the stubborn man he is, he was denying it all.
“Do you really think you’re well enough to be going to this shoot today?” You sighed, arms crossed over your chest as Morgan got ready. “You can cancel, you know? They won’t kill you if you’re sick!”
Morgan sniffled, “Reader, I’m fine! Just got a blocked nose, that’s all.”
You rolled your eyes as you watched him take some painkillers, “Babe, you’re literally burning up! Look at you, you’re sick.”
You raised an eyebrow, watching him pause to cough into his fist before pretending it never happened. He looked exhausted. His hair wasn't styled yet, but even like that you could see the dark circles under his eyes, the pink tint across his cheeks and the way he kept rubbing at his nose.
“You're running a temperature,” you said quietly, stepping closer and pressing the back of your hand to his forehead.
He leaned into your touch for half a second before catching himself. “I am not.”
“I know you'll survive but that’s not the point.” You sighed, just wanting your boyfriend to stay home with how sick he was.
“Babe listen, if I feel worse I’ll come home.” He said, grabbing his keys off of the side as he coughed again. “I’ve got to get off now, I’ll text you when I’m there.”
He placed a kiss on your temple, “I love you, see you later.”
You sighed, “I love you too, don’t overwork please!”
“I won’t!” He shouted back as he left the house.
You busied yourself with washing up, answering a few emails and tidying the living room, checking your phone more often than you cared to admit. Morgan had sent a quick message when he'd arrived.
You replied almost instantly.
That's debatable. Drink water, don’t overwork yourself!
About an hour later, just as you were making yourself another coffee, your phone rang. Jakey’s name lit up your screen, something that often happened. You two were close, he was like your little brother.
“Hiya my mate,” He said as you picked up the phone, “Umm, Morgan’s not well at all. He’s on his way home but I thought I’d just tell you.”
You sighed, “Thanks for letting me know, Jakey! He was ill this morning and I told him not to go, but you know how stubborn he is.”
Jakey let out a laugh that sounded more tired than amused, like the morning had already been far more eventful than any of them had expected.
"He honestly looked awful." Jakey lowered his voice even further, as though Morgan might somehow overhear him. "We weren't about to let him keep filming. Tays practically took his car keys off him."
A small smile tugged at your lips despite the knot of worry in your chest. You were relieved someone had finally stepped in instead of letting Morgan keep pretending he was okay.
"We've put him in an Uber. He should be with you in like twenty minutes."
You glanced towards the front window on instinct, already mentally making a list of everything Morgan would need once he got home.
"No worries." Jakey chuckled softly. "Tell him we said to stop being an idiot."
A quiet laugh escaped you. "I'll add it to the list."
The second the call ended, you were already moving. You filled Morgan's water bottle with fresh cold water before setting it carefully on the coffee table within easy reach.
You dug the thermometer out of the bathroom cabinet, the exact place you'd told him it was that morning, and placed it beside a packet of paracetamol.
A clean pair of comfy clothes laid neatly across the bed. You grabbed the soft blanket he always stole from you whenever he wasn't feeling well and draped it over the sofa, smoothing it down absentmindedly.
By the time the front door unlocked twenty-five minutes later, everything was ready. The lock clicked quietly before the door eased open.
Morgan shuffled inside with none of his usual energy. He looked even worse than he'd had that morning.
His hoodie hung awkwardly from his frame, his shoulders dropped as though simply holding himself upright had become exhausting. His hair was flattened beneath his beanie, loose strands sticking out in every direction, and the colour had drained almost completely from his face apart from the red flush spread across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
He closed the door carefully behind him, leaning back against it for a long moment with his eyes closed as though he needed a second just to gather enough energy to walk any further.
"You were right," he mumbled, barely lifting his head as he spoke. His voice was rough, congested and quieter than normal.
You couldn't even find the satisfaction to tease him. "Oh, sweetheart."
The moment you reached him, your arms slipped carefully around his waist, mindful of how miserable he already looked. He practically melted into the hug.
His forehead rested heavily against your shoulder, and you felt the heat radiating from him almost instantly through your jumper. He was burning.
"So much for just a blocked nose."
A tiny groan vibrated against your shoulder. "...Don't."
His voice came out muffled, carrying just enough embarrassment to make your heart ache.
"I won't say I told you so." You gently rubbed your hand up and down his back, smiling sympathetically despite yourself. "I'll just think it very loudly, though."
That earned a weak, breathy laugh from him, but it only lasted a second before another cough caught in his chest. Without thinking, you rested your palm against his back, slowly rubbing soothing circles between his shoulder blades until his breathing steadied again.
"Come on," you said softly once the coughing had settled. You kept one hand resting lightly against his arm, gently steering him further into the flat. "Shoes off."
"I'm okay." His answer came automatically, almost on instinct, even as he swayed ever so slightly on his feet.
"You are absolutely not okay."
Once his shoes were off, he walked slowly into the living room. He sank into the cushions with a long sigh that turned into a cough.
"Did you eat anything?" you asked.
You perched beside him, studying the way his eyes struggled to stay fully open.
He scrunched up his face tiredly. "Half a cereal bar."
"I know." His voice barely rose above a whisper this time.
You reached over, brushing his messy fringe away from his forehead before pressing a gentle kiss against his temple.
"You’ve got a right bloody temperature!” You sighed, “Can I get you anything, baby?”
He shook his head, “Can I just have cuddles?”
Your heart melted. "Of course you can."
You didn't hesitate. You kicked your slippers off before climbing onto the sofa beside him, opening your arms without a second thought. Morgan shuffled over with a tired little sigh, moving much slower than he normally would. As soon as he was close enough, he practically folded himself into you.
He rested his head against your chest, one arm wrapping lazily around your waist while the other stayed tucked awkwardly between the two of you. You pulled the blanket over both of you before running your fingers gently through his messy hair.
“Boobs are comfy.” He mumbled, slipping his hand under your shirt and cupping them. “So comfy.”
You let out a soft laugh, glancing down at the man who was very obviously running on fumes. "Is that so?"
"Mhm." His words were muffled against your shirt as he gave an approving little nod. "Perfect pillow."
You rolled your eyes, gently brushing your hand over his hair. "You're unbelievable."
He hummed, half asleep, “Yeah but you love me though.”
You laughed, pressing a kiss against his forehead, “I do, I love you a lot.”
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