Under my supervision - CB98
Connor Bedard x Sick Girlfriend reader Word count: 1588 Summary: After one FaceTime call, Connor takes it upon himself to become your overly dramatic, completely unqualified personal nurse. Genre: fluff, comfort, sick reader
Masterlist
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The first sign that Connor was becoming a problem for you was the fact that your phone hadn’t stopped buzzing for the last twenty minutes.
You were currently face down on a pillow when it lit up again.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
With a loud groan, you rolled over just enough to grab it, eyes squinting at the brightness through now watery eyes and the dull, gentle ache pounding against your forehead.
Connie:
Hey baby
Hello??
Answer me
Have you died or something?
You let out a small laugh, which turned into a cough, at his dramatics before typing back slowly.
Not dead, I'm sick though.
Suddenly, a FaceTime call from “Connie” appeared across your screen.
You stared at the screen, trying to make it disappear.
Sadly, it did not.
So with a dramatic sigh, you answered.
Connor’s face appeared on the screen, sprawled across his couch, face full of amusement, before he actually saw you.
His eyebrows shot up.
“Oh, my god.”
You let out a sniff.
“That’s rude.”
“No offence babe, but you look terrible,” he said as he sat upright.
“Thanks, Connor, you sure know how to make a girl feel great.”
He chose to ignore that.
“How long have you been sick?”
“Since this morning.”
‘Did you take medicine?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Uhh, kind of.”
“And what does ‘kind of’ mean?”
You close your eyes for a moment before replying.
“I had half a granola bar and then wanted to die.”
Connor made a face at that.
“You know that's not food, right?”
“It was enough.”
He squints at you through the phone, like he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth.
“Well, this is concerning," he said after a moment of silence.
“It’s a cold, Connor, not the black plague.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
He was already shaking his head.” No, this is bad.”
You stared at him for a moment.
“Dude , you are so dramatic.”
“Says the girl who sounds like she swallowed glass.”
You coughed in response, immediately regretting it.
Connor stared blankly at the screen. “See what I mean.”
You gave him an unimpressed look, which probably didn’t look too threatening, considering the fact that you were half dead, wrapped in a blanket.
“I’m gonna go back to sleep now.”
“Okay, baby, I will see you later then,” he said.
“Connor”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t you dare.”
He blinked innocently.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“You are a terrible liar, you know that, right?”
“I have to know, I’m offended by that.”
“Connor.”
“Okay, okay, feel better soon then.”
You hung up before he could add anything else, dropping your phone back down on the bed, before allowing your eyes to close, willing yourself to drift back off.
He’s not coming over, probably, hopefully.
Just as you had started to drift back into sleep, the sound of the doorbell ringing through your apartment.
You looked up at the ceiling.
Then a second ring.
Then a third ring, because the person outside had apparently never heard of a thing called patience.
“No.”
Then a fourth ring.
You knew exactly who it was.
Pulling yourself out of bed, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, you dragged yourself to the front door.
You opened it, and lo and behold.
Connor stood there, holding two pharmacy bags in one hand and a takeout bag in the other.
And for some reason, a stuffed teddy was tucked under his arm.
You just blinked up at him.
“Uhh, Connor.”
“Yeah.”
You look at the bags in his hands, then at the teddy under his arm, and then back at his face.
“What is this?”
“Oh! Yeah, so I kinda panicked at the checkout line.”
You just stare back at him.
“I told you not to come over."
Connor entered the apartment anyway.
“Yeah, I know, but you looked like death on FaceTime, so I just decided to ignore that.”
The door clicked shut behind him,
You followed him to the kitchen with the exhausted confusion of someone too ill to argue back.
He dropped the bags onto the kitchen island and began to unpack them as if it were a medical emergency.
Cold medication, cough drops, electrolyte water, tissues, a thermometer, soup, crackers, and the teddy.
You leaned against the wall beside him.
“And why do I need emotional support teddy?”
Connor shrugged.
“It felt necessary, okay.”
You laughed despite yourself, which turned into a cough halfway through.
Connor pointed at you.
“See? Necessary.”
“You are insane.”
“I am helpful.”
“That remains to be seen.”
He chose not to acknowledge that comment, instead unscrewing one of the waters and handing it to you.
“Drink.”
You looked at him.
He lifted his eyebrows.
So you drank.
“Good girl,” he said, way too pleased with himself.
He then proceeded to pick up the medicine packets, reading the back with the same concentration as someone studying for an exam.
You tilted your head. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?”
He didn’t look at you. “Absolutely, I do.”
Then a moment of silence before it was followed by.
“I googled it in the car.”
You snorted.
“That's not very reassuring, you know that, right?”
“Well, it should be.”
Connor chose to ignore that again. “Okay, have you taken any of these yet?”
You shook your head.
He held them out to you. “Take these.”
You accepted them with a sigh. “Yes, Doctor Bedard."
“Why thank you for respecting my authority.”
The next hour honestly felt like something you could only describe as a strange fever dream.
Connor moved around your apartment with an alarming amount of confidence for someone who had admitted to using Google for his apparent medical degree.
He heated some soup.
Way too loudly.
Opened and shut cupboards way too often.
Fluffed your pillows, brought you three different blankets because, according to him, one wasn’t enough, checked your forehead every ten minutes like he expected your temperature to combust.
At some point, you found him standing in the kitchen staring at his phone, a confused and slightly alarmed look on his face.
“What are you doing?” you croaked out from the couch.
He looked at you. “I’m googling to see how high is too high when it comes to a fever.
You stared blankly at him. “Connor, I have a cold.”
He pointed a spoon at you. “And I am taking this very seriously, because I love you.”
You smiled at him. “I love you too, but you know I have been sick before, right?”
“Yeah,” he replied, carrying a tray with some soup over and carefully setting it in your lap, “but not under my supervision, you haven’t.”
You laughed again.
Connor sat down beside you, watching until you took the first spoonful.
He nodded approvingly once you did.
“That’s a girl.”
“You are being weirdly bossy, you know.”
“You need it.”
You rolled your eyes at that but kept on eating.
If you were being truthful, the apartment didn’t feel as miserable as before.
Not with Connor, filling it up with unnecessary commentary and concerned hovering, not with him fussing over the medicine times and asking you every fifteen minutes if you needed anything.
It was ridiculous and completely unnecessary.
But also embarrassingly sweet.
By the time the movie he had chosen was halfway through, your eyes started to get tired,
You were now tucked under two blankets, head resting against the couch cushions.
Connor was still beside you, one leg folded beneath him, scrolling through his phone before he noticed you staring.
“What up?”
“You really didn’t have to come over, you know.”
Connor looked at you for a moment before setting his phone down. “I wanted to.”
And the simplicity of his answer made your chest tighten. “You’re going to get sick.”
He shrugged. “Probably.”
“Does that not concern you?”
“Not really.”
A moment passed before he smiled softly at you. “Leaving you here by yourself seemed like the worst option.”
You looked down at the mug in your hands so he wouldn’t see how much that affected you.
Connor nudged your knee gently. “Also, your care plan was half a granola bar and to suffer in silence.
You let out a tired laugh. “It was working, though.”
“It wasn’t, though.”
“Come here,” he added.
You looked over at him.
And he had shuffled further down the couch, arms opening slightly.
“What?”
“I can see you falling asleep sitting up.”
“I am not,” you yawned immediately after.
He smiled at that. “Very convincing.”
Too tired to argue with him, you shuffle your way sideways until your head is lying against his chest, his arms wrapping around you instantly.
It was warm and steady over the mountain of blankets surrounding you.
His hand came up to gently brush through your hair, and you melted.
“Oh, that feels nice,” you mumbled.
Connor hummed.
“Comfortable?”
“Unfortunately so.”
He laughed quietly.
For a few minutes, neither of you said anything.
Just the low murmur of the movie in the background and Connor’s fingers moving absentmindedly through your hair.
Your breathing slowed, as did his.
Right on the edge of sleep, you mumbled against his chest. “If you get sick, this is your own fault.”
Connor’s hand rubbed once over your back. “Worth it though.”
A smile touched your face.
The last thing you remember before sleep was Connor pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.
And for the first time that day, you slept properly.
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Authors note: honestly quite long, didn't actually plan on it being this long but oh well, was feeling a bit sick the past week so and then had this idea so wrote it once I felt better.
