#cory writes

You should've known that it was coming. 

The signs were all there. The restless sleep schedule, the sudden shift in emotions, strange cravings, and the unusual forgetfulness.

You’d thought you had more time but, alas. 

Here you are, waking up in Hobie Brown's bed surrounded by a pool of blood.

"It's everywhere." Obviously you were exaggerating but you knew it was gonna be a pain to deal with later. 

"Oh my God." It was really bad.

"You alright in there?" Hobie calls from the kitchen. He's probably let you sleep in while he started cooking breakfast.

"It's a code red," You call back. This was a gag you both had started from the first time your period started at Hobie’s house. At least this time it wasn't on new sheets.

"What's the damage?"

"It was a massacre." You have to check to see if you bled through to the mattress. 

"Damn it." Unfortunately, you had.

"It's that bad?" Hobie 

"Captain, they ambushed us. We never stood a chance."

He ducks into the room, eyes widening at the scene. 

"Woah. All this came from you?"

You stare at him blankly. Sometimes you wonder if he says stupid stuff like this just to piss you off.

"Who else is there?"

"I just thought I was the only one with enemies to fight here." 

And if any of them popped up right now you would leave him to fend for himself. Spider-man values be damned.

"Gimme one good reason why I shouldn't punch you right now."

"Because." He says waving a bottle of peroxide as he walks towards you. 

"While you take a nice, long, hot shower I'll be cleaning up this whole mess for you." He was standing in front of you now. You started to feel bad for your small outburst.

“But before that.” He opens his arms wide. An open invitation for a hug you so desperately needed.  

"Fine" You sigh and let yourself be enveloped in his arms.

"Thank you." You mumbled into his chest. 

"Of course." He pressed a light kiss onto your forehead. "Now off you go." 

************************************************************************

After hopping out the shower and being met with the cold air of the bathroom you felt the cramps start to creep in.

"You got any ibuprofen or those para- whatchamacallits?"

"Paracetamols. Med cabinet." You grabbed a blister pack out of the cabinet and popped a pill.

You had thrown away the pants and underwear that you were wearing earlier; they were beyond saving. Thankfully, there were clothes for you to change into, courtesy of Hobie’s closet, and underwear from a previous visit. However, there was one thing that you didn’t have.

"Bie." You shouted. "You got any pads?" It was unlikely but, you might've left some behind before. If not you could always just send Hobie to grab some. 

“Umm. Check under the sink?"

You open the drawer and nearly cry from what you see. There sat a small box, clearly labeled in Hobie’s messy handwriting, Lovebug's Blood Kit. It held pads in a number of colors and sizes, as well as a variety of your favorite chocolates.

You put on a pad and headed to the bedroom, expecting Hobie to still be there. To your surprise, you were met with a bare mattress completely cleaned of the previous murder scene. "In here," he called from the kitchen. "Food's done." 

"How’d yo-"

"You were in there for ages, bug. I was starting to think you passed out from blood loss."

You roll your eyes and smile. You were in love with an idiot. A caring and considerate idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.  

"Thanks again for everything." You sit down and begin to eat.

“Don’t know what you mean,” he shrugged, glancing towards you with a smile.

You giggle. “Of course you don’t.”

The quiet hum of the washing machine continued in the background as you both sat and ate. 

"Bart. *Cough.* This is it for me. When I'm gone.... *cough cough* tell the kids my story."

Hobie rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"You've got energy for jokes so I think you'll be ok."

You were lying bed with a pretty nasty cold. High fever, chills, cough, sore throat, runny nose, the full works. After realizing that you probably needed to get food after not eating anything all day you called Hobie to drop something by. You weren't expecting him to come swinging in through your window, masked up, with a bag full of ingredients.

"Where's your pots?" Hobie was in the kitchen. He had said that there was no reason to order something when he could just cook for you himself. In your semi lucid state you couldn't find any reason to disagree with him. You realized your mistake when he brought you what he'd created cooked.

"Isn't this the part of the story where you're supposed to feed me some rice porridge?" You look away from Hobie at the disaster in the bowl. A bubbling murky green liquid looked back at you.

"What is this mess?" You look up at him scared to hear his answer.

"It's food." He hands you a spoon. "It's my nan's recipe. Guaranteed to help you get over your cold."

You looked down at the bowl once again. This time in disbelief. There's no way in hell you were gonna eat whatever sludge Hobie had concocted. You didn't think you were the greatest chef in the world but this was something else. Your thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of your stomach growling. In your current state you knew that you couldn't cook anything and you knew Hobie wouldn't let you waste food.

"Oh my God." You sighed sadly and you spoon a bit of the....disaster. You swear you see something move in your spoon but you proceed to bring it closer to your mouth. It didn't taste as bad as you thought. But the conflicting textures throughout it made you gag. Hobie sat with you until you ate every single drop.

"See that wasn't so bad, was it?" You were too weak to glare at him and collapsed back onto your bed. He gathered your bowl and started to walk back to the kitchen, but stopped short when you grabbed the hem of his jacket.

"Bug, I won't be a minute. I'm just gonna put this in the sink."

"Please. Just until I'm asleep." He sets the bowl done on your bedside table before sitting back down. The last thing you can remember is his cold hand resting on top of your burning forehead.