#good one

be that as it may, but even mercenaries get the flu.

hyperlaser, a demon filled with so much grit and grime behind his name—so much so that it warrants fear—has caught the typical sickness.

he knows it’s only nature. it’s an expected thing to happen to anyone when they don’t take care of themselves, and hyperlaser knows he isn’t the best at personal wellness. the constant schedule of being a hitman, body guard, and other miscellaneous things for quick cash is part of his qualifications. nobody said he had to get eight hours of sleep or eat his vegetables to do his job. it just didn’t feel necessary, he mistakenly thought.

this mindset obviously backfires as his consequences reside in his body. he feels hot, unusually so in comparison to blackrock’s weather. the snow that falls ever so delicately onto his clothes, and the cool touch makes him twitch. it makes him feel sensitive. in a way, the snowflakes burn into the thick fabric of his sleeves, and reminds him that he is not so scary after all. 

it’s not as if he’s never gotten sick before. he can count on various missions where he’s suffered from a fever, and still worked at the end of the night. sure, a cold or two may have issued a migraine while firing his shots, but hyperlaser is part of blackrock’s finest. he’s like no other. he never misses. that is the difference between him and the mass. 

but it’s oh, so embarrassing to admit that his body does weigh him down eventually. if not for surviving prior injuries that coat his entire body, hyperlaser would’ve thought that this was it for him. he saw a future where he’d be confined to a hospital bed, or one where he’s gone and replaced by metal intimidations of life. a sorry future that would be.

an interruption hits him.

“i’ll be back, okay? you just stay there. it won’t take long—and don’t even think about coming with me.” 

he blinks slowly. those were the words you said right before running out the door, saying something about medicine and homemade soup. this is a future he didn’t foresee. hyperlaser sits up on the extravagant couch he paid way too much for, staring. thinking. 

the two of you have lived together for some time now. photos of you two and princess, many trinkets that he tried to argue against, and a subtle mix of his cologne and your perfume. all signs that this apartment is lived in.

it’s a domestic life you two have. he didn’t expect himself to be so fond of you, to cherish the way you prance around his life. so carefree, understanding of how he feels. how each touch of yours makes him react. not with hostility, but with ambition. is it sappy to admit that you motivate him? 

hyperlaser sneezes into his arm. he really does feel warm to the touch, and the heat radiates off his skin like a stovetop. he curses himself, wished he slept in a bit more. he didn’t have to be so early most of the time, and maybe he could’ve snuck in an hour or two. maybe even eat a carrot while he’s at it.

he amuses himself. what a silly thought.

hyperlaser knows that slacking off isn’t an option. it’s a dream that mercenaries like him can have, but never act on. he knows that one mistake, no matter how small, will cost him his life. he’s already cheated death once, and he’s a very unlucky guy. the chances aren’t enough to allow any more mistakes.

princess strolls along the bottom of the couch, whining about something. it’s a daily occurrence, as she may want food, attention, or both. hyperlaser finds that he doesn’t mind and spoils her rotten anyway. the world is her oyster afterall. he just lives in it.

“hello to you too.” his throat feels dry, but he can’t resist his feline daughter. hyperlaser is as strong as they say, but weak to the charms of a cat. pitiful. “shouldn’t come up here. sick. see?” he points to himself, gesturing in a way that makes princess tilt her head. 

'mreeow,' is all she says. before pouncing onto the arm of the couch, and resting alongside hyperlaser. he’d laugh, but it hurts to do so, and keeps himself quiet. he drags his glove against her head, scratching it. princess relishes in the affection, and purrs to her heart’s content.

then, hyperlaser hears the front door click. he knows who it is by the sound of your keys. overloaded with charms and other useless things. 

“haah. you’d think traffic would die down by nighttime. apparently everyone’s sick in blackrock nowadays.” you kick out your shoes and slip into your house slippers, and carry your bag onto the kitchen countertop. “i mean seriously. how hard is it to get cough syrup on a wednesday night?”

“mm.” he agrees. hyperlaser is already a demon of a few words, and the sickness doesn’t help. but you get that he’s listening to you as you take out the various items you bought.

hyperlaser can note many vegetables, broth, and medicine. as expected, you really did stick to your word. 

weakly, he turns his head to face you. “...is this necessary?” 

“uh, yeah. if it wasn’t, you think i’d wait fifteen minutes at self checkout for this? c’mon. i thought we had the greatest technology ever.” you open the cough syrup and read its lengthy instructions. something about taking a dose every few hours and the right measurements… yeah. couldn’t be hard. 

he groans. he thinks he can handle himself very well, and his sickness rarely caused failures in his job. hyperlaser can still work and move. realistically, no employer would care if he had a headache or nausea. he’s paid to provide a service. he doesn’t need to be babied.

you pour in the right amount of liquid after what felt like forever. it might’ve been a little off, and hyperlaser can immediately tell, but it won’t kill him. if anything, it’d hurt him more if he didn’t take the medicine entirely. that’s a case that neither you or him wants to face.

“don’t pout.” you make your way over to him, and sit next to him with the tiny cup in hand. “you practically did this to yourself, you know.”

he drinks up the disgusting liquid. you are right. for a faction as advanced as blackrock, they couldn’t have made medicine taste better? 

“feeling under the weather doesn’t affect my work. i used to always tough it out.” shameless, he is. 

your hand presses against his helmet. hot to the touch. 

“well. that was then, and this is now. what happens if you’re so sick, and your head’s pounding, and you miss a shot? huh?”

“wouldn’t happen. i don’t miss.”

“...can you humor me?”

he laughs, followed by a dry cough. the medicine isn’t immediate, but it works faster than other syrups found outside of blackrock. hyperlaser can’t believe nobody’s asked him to snag a medical formula from blackrock to a different faction yet. sure, it’d cost a lot to do such a task, but it can be done. 

“hypothetically then, i’d get fired for failing my mission.” hyperlaser muses. in reality, the real meaning behind being fired meant instant death. the two of you knew that very well. 

you cross your arms. through his sniffling and coughing, he can catch a glimpse of your expression. confident. never a good sign. “and?”

hyperlaser scoffs, or makes an attempt to do so. talking with you is probably not the best thing to do with his situation, but it’s so tempting. to respond at your every beck and call. answer to the sounds of your voice, even if it burned him. it felt so lovely, inviting. and you don’t even have to pay him to do any of that. 

“...and?” if he could, he’d raise a brow. 

you lean closer to him, as if he wasn’t sick. “and… what should you do to prevent that from ever happening?”

pride is sprinkled all over your face. urging him to admit his faults, and his carelessness on health. he’s so adamant on your well being, yet cannot afford to take care of himself from time to time. 

“oh.” he makes a gesture that suggests critical thinking, but he knows his answer. an answer that seems fit for what you’re looking for. “i…guess the tactical thing to do is to keep myself healthy.” 

“smart guy,” you grin. cheeky demon you are. the feared mercenary that could kill in the blink of an eye declares mercy in front of you. “can you make room for that in your schedule?”

hyperlaser lowers his head. if you had to guess, you would say that his eyes are avoiding you. the toughest sniper in blackrock, and he hides away from you as if you’re his biggest threat. cute. 

“i can try. it’s a very tedious thing, sweetheart.” 

“hmm. and look where not being tedious got you.” you nag. you don’t like to do it, but running the risk is all too great. he needed to get better, stay alive to his fullest potential.

although, it should be noted that hyperlaser really is a good sniper and an even better soldier. there’s a reason why many try to take him down, and want to rip him to the core of his body; shredding it apart. yet here he stands in front of you. in a loving home with well made food, mundane chores, and a warm bed. it’s important to preserve this life as much as possible. that’s why he has to be well. 

softly, you murmur. “...at the very least, could you take the medicine for the next few days? i can handle preparing meals for you.”

you don’t mean to be so pitiful. hyperlaser knows that he should be careful, and that idea has been drilled into his head since he spawned in blackrock. it’d be annoying to hear it out loud, you understand that much. but a compromise would satisfy you both. and there’s no harm in that. 

he nods. he can at least do that if it concerns you so much. hyperlaser couldn’t dream of you being a frantic mess because of his wellbeing. you already do such a great job when he’s away on continuous missions. he’d hate to worry you. 

“you have my word.” he holds your hand, and brings it closer to his chest. his heart is beating—and swords—he’s so, so warm. hyperlaser’s presence has always been a comfort, and if you squint, you could see his darling eyes staring right at you. only you. always you. 

flustered, you look away. he really is captivating like this. “...you know i’ll be upset if you’re just saying that to shut me up.” 

hyperlaser intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing you as if he’d ever let go. if the world was perfect, he’d never leave your side. always near, close by, to hear your laughter right in front of him. he never thought of himself as someone so sappy.

“that’s why i mean it.” he leans into you. tilting his head as if he could kiss you behind his helmet. taking it off would be ideal, but he’d probably get you sick. then nobody would get well. “really…” his eyes meet your lips nonetheless. “...i do.” 

you chuckle. seemingly, you don’t mind the gap closing between you two. he really was beautiful up close, even if he insists that he’s not. a mistaken demon, he is. “you don’t need to say it like that. so embarrassing.” 

his fingers squeeze against yours, but not enough to hurt. probably not even enough to hurt a fly. he’s so tender, softer with you around. 

“how else should i say it then, doll?”

all you can do is roll your eyes. “a simple i’m not lying would work. but it’s… nice to hear you say things like that too.”

he tilts his head. almost, you see the resemblance with princess. both of them have that same pleading look, even if one’s extremely moody and the others in a shielded mask most of the time. 

“you like it?” his voice is gentle, low. obviously with the twinge of sickness, but his question is sincere. 

your head dips in, and you press your lips against his visor where his mouth would be. oh, how you can tell that he wanted to kiss you back too. desperate, he is. 

“i love it. i relish in it, and could die in it. would wait a thousand years for it. should i go on?” 

“so dramatic.” he nudges you away, only to long for your touch the moment after. the way hyperlaser’s hands feel lost without yours is laughable, as if he didn’t know his way around military equipment.

“yeah, yeah, whateveerr!" you place a hand on his leg, patting him. “anyway, now that i think about it, we’ve been up for awhile. especially after i made that run to the store. we should get to bed… and i’m sure you’re getting tired too.” 

hyperlaser shakes his head, “i’m really not.” 

and it probably was true. knowing his area of work, he could stay up for months if he had to. that’s a fate worse than death in your opinion. hallucinations could ensue and all sorts of scary stuff. you couldn’t have that happen to hyperlaser outside of work. 

“okaaay, well… i’m getting tired! i don’t care what you do, but you’re gonna have to force yourself to sleep anyway. rest improves your health, you know.”

princess rubs her cheek against hyperlaser’s arm, almost like she’s agreeing with whatever you’re saying. you wish you could get your hands on pet mind-reading devices. who knows what else princess agrees with you on? 

“see. even she agrees. now come on, come to bed. the couch isn’t big enough for both of us to sleep comfortably.” 

“i could take the couch and you—”

“hyperlaser.”

he chuckles. “i’m kidding. i’ll be there in a bit, alright? save me a spot.” 

“you better be there in under an hour.” you cross your arms. 

“roger that.”