Flu is in the Air
Pair: LafayettexReader Prompt: I just wanted to write, okay? Words: 680 A/N: This is my first time writing, so I apologize if this is horrid. I'm also on mobile, so don't get me started on how difficultly annoying this app is. Lafayette was always mostly independent, and that was something that I had always admired about him. He didn't need me to do everything for him. At least, that's what I thought before he got sick. It started with a cough. It slowly became a cold. Then, it decided to turn into the flu. The cough worried me, but he'd consistently assure me that he was okay. It didn't prevent me from forcing a spoonful of cough syrup down his throat. "I am feeling well, mon amour. You do not need to worry," he tries, smiling at me. "You just don't want to drink it," I accuse, and he gasps. "Moi? I would not dare!" he defends. He places a hand on his chest and stands up straight. "I am not a liar." "That was a lie," I retort, and he opens his mouth to speak. I quickly shove in the spoon and tilt it forwards. He swallows the thick liquid and makes a bitter face. Over the course of the next few days, his coughing had become progressively worse and his sinuses a bother. This only prompted me to become more careful. "I am feeling much better. Je vous promets," he insists as I place my hand on his forehead. His skin is feverish. "You are sick," I inform for what feels like the millionth time. Then everything sets into place, and his immune system crashes. I wake up to the sound of him coughing. I sit up and turn the lamp on. The clock reads 3:19 A.M. "Are you alright?" I ask. He coughs again, this time much worse. I could almost hear it shake his entire body, but I definitely feel it. "I am okay, chérie," he attempts, but I don't buy it for a second. "You are sick. You aren't saving me any trouble by telling me otherwise. Stop lying," I demand, and his head falls. He sheepishly looks up at me as I ask a question. "Now, how are you feeling?" "I... My throat hurts like enfer. I have a headache most of the time. I, ah... I feel as if I will... vomir," he explains, and I slump my shoulders. "Vomit?" I query, and he nods. "That is what I said," he replies. So, he no longer fights me. He allows me to care for him. I love to do so. He's my boyfriend, and I want to make sure he is feeling well. It's only slightly annoying due to him becoming excessively clingy. "Chéri!" he calls from the bedroom. He hadn't left in quite some time. I sit down the bowl I'm carrying to make my way towards him. "Yes?" I ask, standing next to him. He reaches out and holds my hand. "I want to tenir you," he whines. He pouts as I let out a heavy sigh. "I'm busy right now, babe. I'm trying to make soup," I say, and he tries to use his puppy dog face on me. "You asked me to." "Oui, but now I am asking you to rest with me," he cheekily quips, and I squint my eyes. "If you get me sick," I say lowly, lying down next to him. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him. After a few minutes he quickly turns and leans over the side of the bed. I try not to listen as he heaves, or I will as well. I sit up and rub his back. He slowly sits up, eyes dazed and dizzy. I reach over to grab one of the several rags and wipe his mouth off for him. "Merci," he mumbles, eyes dropping to his lap. "You're welcome," I respond, and lean over to kiss his cheek. He begins to slowly get better after a hard week for the both of us. He had pain in several ways, and I just had a pain in my ass. His nose is clear and he no longer feels nauseous. He actually goes outside instead of staying in the bedroom. Everything goes fine, until I cough.
