#bester

“Got some soup for you, boss honey,” Lussuria sings, stepping into the room. Xanxus mutters something in reply from under his stack of blankets, and Lussuria just assumes whatever he says included at least three ‘fucks’ and a complaint about the lack of steak.

He sets the serving tray on the bedside table next to the box of tissues and once again pulls the blankets away because it’s July, and while Xanxus may feel like he’s freezing, he isn’t actually freezing and is at risk of overheating. “You don’t want steak when you’re sick like this, Xan-chan. You wouldn’t be able to taste it properly to begin with with how stuffed your nose is right now.”

With one last bite shoved into his mouth, the sandwich is gone, and Lussuria has both hands free to wrangle Xanxus up into a seated position against the headboard. Xanxus coughs, curling up over his arm from the effort. 

Lussuria gets a cup of water from the bathroom sink and shakes two ibuprofen out of their container while he waits for Xanxus to stop sounding like he’s hacking up a lung. Then he silently passes the pills and water over to him and watches Xanxus throw them back. “Ready for lunch now?” he asks with a smile brighter than either of them feel.

Xanxus sighs loudly and waves a shaking hand. Lussuria moves the tray from the bedside table to Xanxus’ lap and settles in the chair next to the bed.

He takes the opportunity to catch Xanxus up on some of the latest gossip, which new recruits got stuck on That One Balcony during last week’s rainstorm and who was found sticking their tongue down who’s throat. Xanxus looks pointedly unimpressed as he eats his soup, pausing every now and then to cough or (finally!) blow his nose.

Then the door creaks open, and Xanxus snarls expletives at whoever dared to enter, fist tightening around his soup spoon as if prepared to throw it at the fool’s head. However, instead of someone seeking Xanxus out for paperwork or politics or other bullshit purposes, black and white fur shoves through the small gap in the door, a mewling cream-colored cub swaying from Bester’s jaw.

Lussuria coos at the liger. “Who do you have there, pretty girl?”

Xanxus makes a noise of confusion as Bester leaps onto the bed. She walks down the mattress and sets her cub down in the gap between the serving tray and Xanxus’ chest. Chuffing, she clambers off the bed, darting back out the door by the time Xanxus has lowered his spoon back into the bowl.

“The fuck do I do with this?” he asks.

Lussuria hides his smile behind his hand. “You’ll have to ask Bester that I’m afraid, Xan-chan.” He leans forward to get a closer look at the cub. “Which one is it?”

“Fucker.” Xanxus pushes the tray away to reveal the tiger-patterned stripes Fucker inherited from his mother. He carefully strokes the cub from nose to tail, pausing whenever his cough strikes again.

“So it is!” Lussuria sneaks a couple pets in before clearing the tray to the bedside table. The last vestiges of soup are not worth forcing down Xanxus’ throat; the important part is that the man ate something, which he did.

Bester swans in with another of her litter carried carefully in her jaws and deposits the cub onto Xanxus with a chuff. The cub mewls as it slides off Xanxus’ lap and bounces lightly onto the mattress. Xanxus gently gathers it up next to its brother and glares at Bester. “Asshole behavior,” he says, and Lussuria disguises his snort as a light cough. Not that it fools Xanxus, who gives him a side-eyed glare.

Bester simply blinks her amber eyes at Xanxus and yawns widely. Once again, she hops off the bed with a thump and darts out the door, presumably to get the last of her litter.

Xanxus curls his arms loosely around the cubs, watching them intently as Fucker pummels his white-furred sister- Lussuria can see the brown leopard spots that gave her her name now. A sheen of sweat on Xanxus’ forehead catches the light, and Lussuria frowns. 

Sighing, Lussuria fetches a wet cloth from the bathroom and a fresh shirt from Xanxus’ closet. “Let’s get you into a different shirt, boss. I don’t want you catching a chill.”

“If you’d let me keep my blankets, I wouldn’t catch a chill, trash.” But Xanxus doesn’t fight him about pulling off the sweat-soaked shirt and wiping down with the damp cloth before pulling on the clean one. Bester trots back in during this process and leaps onto the bed, waiting patiently for Xanxus to settle back down before dropping Runt onto the kitten pile. Finally finished with her delivery, she settles down on his legs, resting her large head on his thighs while her cubs climb all over the both of them.

Lussuria can’t help but laugh at the big scary assassin being pinned down by a clowder of cats. Runt protests loudly as he’s buried beneath his much bigger siblings, and Xanxus gently pushes Fucker and Spots away to give him room. Much as he would deny it with his dying breath, the tiny tuxedo kitten with white ghost striping would always find a safe space to hide in Xanxus’ hands.

Xanxus meets Lussuria’s eyes as Fucker does his damnedest to climb on top of Xanxus’ head. “Not a word, trash.”

Smirking, Lussuria tosses the sweaty shirt into the laundry basket. “They love you, boss. It’s cute!”

Bester chuffs loudly as if to agree with him.

Xanxus looks at Lussuria dubiously, but he blinks slower, heavier and his breaths deepen between every coughing fit. The warmth of the cats and the pressure of their bodies dragging him down into a doze, if not outright sleep.

 Lussuria settles down beside him, back against the headboard and carefully guides Xanxus’ head to rest on his shoulder. His forehead is blissfully cool compared to the inferno it was earlier, and Lussuria breaths a sigh of relief and sends a prayer of gratitude to whoever invented fever reducers.