#sick fluff

Your nose was a little red from the amount of times you’d used a tissue against it in the last few days, your skin was flushed, your eyes heavy and your steps slow. 

For the third time in four minutes, you zipped your jumper back up and shivered. 

“You’re sick.”

Logan’s voice made you jump. He wasn’t loud but it still made your ears ring. 

“I am not sick.”

“Yes, you are.” Logan pushed himself from the door frame and he walked closer towards you. 

“I don’t get sick. I’m not sick. Just…tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“No, neither did I. I could hear you coughing and sneezing from down the hall.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Sure.” Logan raised his brows for a second. 

“It wasn’t.”

Then you sneezed. 

“Okay,” Logan practically sang, taking you by your shoulders. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I don’t need to go to bed. I’m making food-”

“We don’t need you making everyone else sick. One kid, fine. An entire school? Even Mother Teresa might struggle with that one.”

Logan stood behind you and guided you out of the door and down the hallways. 

“Why is it so hot in here?” Quickly zipping your jacket back down, you tried your hardest to get it off you as fast as you could. Logan helped you for a moment before pressing his hand to the back of your neck. 

“You’re sick.”

“I am not sick.”

“You’re freezing cold,” Logan pointed out. 

“Then why do I feel like I’m on fire?”

“Because,” Logan said. “You’re sick.”

Helping you down the hall and into your bedroom, Logan pulled the covers back from your bed and made sure you got into it. The minute your head hit the pillow, the pouding just became a dull ache. 

“If I’m so sick, why are you helping me? You’ll get sick.”

Logan shook his head as he tucked you in whilst simultaneously untucking your duvet from the frame of the bed. 

“I can’t get sick. My mutation makes sure I can’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

“But what about the kitchen?” 

You went to get out of bed again but Logan practically ran around the bed to stop you. It didn’t take a firm hand to push you back down. 

He sat beside you, his arms caging you in where you lay. 

“Don’t worry about that. I can take care of it.”

“You can cook?”

Logan nodded. 

“You? You, Logan Howlett, can cook?”

Logan furrowed his brows, a little offended. “Don’t sound too shocked.”

“Just…never seen you cook an actual meal.”

Logan shrugged, “When you bunk with seven other soldiers who don’t know the difference between toast and charcoal, you learn pretty quickly.”

“Huh.” You said, slightly shocked by his admission. Though, come to think of it, Logan was full of surprises these days. 

Your friendship with him hadn’t started out on the best of terms given that you had punched him in the face when you first met him, thinking he was on the other team of people who were hunting you. 

You got a good swing in, too. Made his nose bleed. Which was never an easy feat when it came to someone like Logan. 

Of course, for a while, given that you didn’t want to join either team, or any team for that matter, you and Logan were a bit stand-offish to each other. On the rare occasion you did see each other (usually whenever X-Men came to find you), your communication with him was through glares and grunts. Which he gave back in return. 

Then the first couple of times he, technically, saved your life, you were more adamant on fighting him. Like when he pulled you out of the water when you fell in, even though it had been on purpose and you yelled at him for leaving the boat you’d both been on. 

“Oh, well excuse me for thinking I was saving your life!” He had yelled at you as you walked up the bank and found a log to throw your jacket over whilst you wrung out your hair and the bottom of your t-shirt. 

“I jumped, Logan. I didn’t fall. I knew what I was doing. You should be on that boat right now!”

“Maybe, but now I guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

Funnily enough, it was after that day you decided you hated him a little less. But it wasn’t from the water, it was when he actually listened to you and left the boat when you told him to just before it exploded. 

He was the one to find you back at the bank when you dragged yourself up it and collapsed, catching your breath. 

“You blew up a boat.”

You nodded. “I blew up a boat. And saved your life. I guess now we’re even.”

“Even, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He offered you his hand a minute later and pulled you up. 

It still took a while for you to both become friends, but at least from that day forward, you were both civil and talked. 

A few hours passed after Logan had tucked you in, or at least, you guessed they had, considering the sky was less sun-lit and more moon-lit. 

“Hey,” Logan shook you awake gently and you turned over, your entire body hurting as you did so. 

Slowly you sat up and felt Logan’s hands brush the hair from your face until he could see you clearly. 

“Here, take these. Drink this.”

You swallowed down two tablets but made a small groan when Logan didn’t let go of the cup. 

“You’ve already broken two, this is just safer.”

Then you remembered. 

Logan kept his hand on the bottom of the cup as you held it and drank from it before pulling it away and placing it on your side table.

And looked down. 

“Why am I wearing your shirt?”

“Because I found it in your draw. And it’s easier to get you out of it, if you spill something on it again.”

You furrowed your brows. “You got me changed?”

“It was either that or listen to you keep falling around in here.” 

You grunted a small response as Logan went to lift something else from beside your bed. “Here, you need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” You tried to push it away. 

“You haven’t eaten in two days. You need to eat something.”

You groaned again. “What is it?”

“Soup.” Logan gave you a small spoonful, the heat from the bottom of the bowl warming his hand. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He managed to get at least half of the bowl down before you rejected it saying you were full. 

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because someone else might actually think you mean what you say while you're sick.”

You were still for a moment, then nodded. Maybe he was right. 

“What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

You just hummed and slowly lay back down in bed. 

“You just get some rest.” Logan told you, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of your hand before getting up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You didn’t know if it was a minute, but he was back. 

With his hand against your forehead, and through the blurry vision of your eyes in the dark, you could tell he looked worried. 

“Honey, you’re burning up.” He told you, slowly peeling back each layer of bedding you’d put on top of yourself. 

You hissed as he pulled the final layer back. “Logan, it’s freezing.”

“Come here, sit up for me.”

And you did. 

Crouching in front of your legs, Logan kept his eyes on you until he checked the thermometer was on. 

“Open up.”

You did so and he stuck the thermometer under your tongue. 

“I’m surprised you know how to do this.”

“Stop talking.”

You waited for a few seconds, but then you had to speak. 

“Logan, I don’t feel so good.”

“I know-”

Within a split second, you pulled the thermometer from your mouth, left it on the bed and a momentarily confused Logan behind as you ran towards your bathroom and flipped up the toilet lid. 

“Okay, okay.” Logan was right behind you, pulling your hair back and rubbing your back as you practically threw your guts up into the toilet bowl. 

Eventually, it stopped but you remained where you were. The puking might have stopped for a moment but the gurgling inside your stomach hadn’t. 

“I think I’m sick.”

Logan gave a fake scoff. “See, now that’s just untrue.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” you told him, feeling a small smile on your face before it was wiped away by the wave of a sick feeling again. 

For a moment, the gurgling in your stomach subsided and you dropped to the side of the toilet against the wall. 

Logan quickly ran a fresh wash cloth under the sink before he wiped your face down, removing some of the sick stains and sweat. Once he ran it clean, he gave it to you to place at the back of your neck. 

Then he stood up again and started searching through the draws around the sink til he found what he was looking for. 

“Lean forward a little.”

You followed his instructions before you felt his hands scoop up your hair and secure it with a scrunchie he had found. 

“Thank you.”

Reaching up to the counter, he pulled down the thermometer he was yet to check and gave a small whistle.

“Well, what’s the verdict, doc? Girl or boy?”

“39.6.”

“That’s a lot of kids..”

“I’ve called Jean. She’s still tied up at that conference in Melbourn but she should be back soon.”

“Hopefully she knows how I can give birth to that many.”

“Think you can stand?”

“After giving birth? Hell no.”

Logan sighed, but you didn’t miss the chuckle that escaped him as he helped you up off the floor. 

“You okay?” Logan asked you if you gripped onto him as you swayed on the spot. 

“Dizzysall.” You drawled a little as you spoke, closing your eyes. 

“Let's get you back into bed.”

Logan helped you from your bathroom, back into your bedroom and into bed. You pulled the covers back over you, only to have Logan pull them off again. You whined a little. 

“We still need to get your temp down, bub.”

You gave in, your strength leaving you as tiredness kicked right back in. Again, Logan brushed the stray hairs from your face as you tried your best to fight off sleep. 

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“Can’t, remember?” Logan’s voice was soft. “Mutation stops it.”

You nodded, remembering, letting out a small; “Lucky bastard.”

Logan chuckled but just sat beside you as your hand held onto his while your eyes closed, giving him a little more freedom to let his eyes wander around your room. 

You had a couple pictures round your room, but not many. However, you did have a hefty parcel you were yet to open, on your desk that he could guarantee contained some. Also on your desk you had a small record player, as well as the records lined up beside it. You had everything ranging from Christmas Classics to Movie Soundtracks to 80s rock. Most had been your own that you brought with you when you moved into the school, taking up a teaching position. But some others had been gifts from birthdays, christmases and the last couple had been from one’s Logan had found himself. He thought you might like to add them to your collection so picked them up and brought them back from flea markets and other places he found whenever he went out. 

From what he could see, the last record you had played was one he had found for you. 

When you were sound asleep, Logan stood and walked across your room and opened up your window which let in a cool breeze. 

He was quiet as he moved about your room, shutting the door a little so he could flush the toilet without disturbing you before he tidied up the bathroom a little. 

Then he started cleaning around your room, wiping down any surface you had touched and any that you could have. 

By the time he finished, he woke you up again to make sure you got some more fluids down you all the while feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. 

“You feel cooler.”

“Just what I’ve always wanted to hear.” 

Taking the thermometer from your bedside table, he uncapped it and placed it under your tongue. You stayed quiet this time, waiting for the beep. 

Your temperature had gone down a little, but not by much. 

“Logan? Will you stay with me?”

Logan nodded. “Sure, bub. Lay down.”

You did so and he walked around the other side of your bed, pulling the covers to the floor save for the thinnest and lightest one. 

Almost instantly you curled into him and closed your eyes, his arms holding you close. 

“Thank you for making sure I don’t die.”

Logan smiled. “If you did, who would give me crap from cooking?”

You gave a slight smile before sleep overtook you. You woke a couple of hours later to chuck up the last few remaining ounces of your internal organs, and Logan stayed with you the whole time. 

And when you fell asleep on your window seat, having been desperate for fresh air that didn’t smell like the inside of a toilet bowl, Logan carried you back into bed. 

By the time morning rolled around, you had less of a rough storm inside your stomach but you were no better than the night before. 

So, Logan made you take a shower. 

“I’m gonna keep this door open,” Logan called over his shoulder, between the gap he had left in the door. “Shout me if you need me.”

“Okay.”

Immediately, Logan started stripping your bed covers and sheets, changing them for fresh ones. He was almost done when you came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Saying nothing, you moved over to sit by the window seat and let the fresh air brush around you. 

Logan found you an extra towel and wrapped it over your shoulders so you wouldn’t get too cold, or even sicker, before going in search of some clothes. 

You managed to pull your arms through the t-shirt and lift it over your head. Logan helped pull it down over the rest of your towel covered body and left you to deal with your pants whilst he shut the window so the gap for air wasn’t so big. 

You pulled the towel undone from underneath you and Logan took it from you, throwing it into the laundry basket by your door. 

You managed to twist your hair into a bun as you walked over to your bed, laying on top of the sheets. 

The rest of the day was spent sleeping, waking up when Logan came back to make sure you were getting enough water and medicine down you as well as keeping it down. And by the afternoon, he had found a couple of old movies. 

And when you asked him to stay with you, he did. 

You fell asleep fifteen minutes in, but Logan still stayed with you. And even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t. Because your hands had been held above his, over your middle since he lay beside you. 

You turned over, half way through the movie, gripping onto his shirt and he just rested his chin on the top of your head. 

You woke up six hours later and felt better. 

Over the next two days, your fever finally went down and you stopped gagging at every smell that was stronger than laundry softener. Until finally, you were sat up in bed with Logan, able to feed yourself without your arms screaming at you to just not move an inch. 

“I mean it, Logan. Thank you. For everything.” You told him, turning to look at him. 

He had made you some more soup and gave you some added crackers. Your appetite wasn’t back but you were thankful that you were actually hungry for once and not feeling sea sick. 

“Don’t mention it. How’s the soup?”

“Tastier now that it doesn’t smell like everything else did.”

Logan nodded. “Still surprised that I can cook?”

“Oh, yeah. I still need to see you cook to believe it though.”

Logan smiled. You were getting better. 

The conversation flowed for a while longer until you asked Logan one specific question. 

“Do you remember when we became friends? I’m not talking about after the boat. I mean like, actual friends.”

“We’re friends?”

You scoffed, hiding your smile whilst he showed his, and shoved him slightly. 

“I’m kidding. But you remember the river?”

You nodded. “Of course. You don’t exactly forget jumping from an exploding vessel.”

Logan waited a moment and then nodded. “I remember when we became friends. You took care of Rouge. She wouldn’t let anyone in to see her, but she let you.” 

Logan leaned his head back and looked up to the ceiling. “God, I remember that. I think you even called me an ass.”

“Correction; A jackass.”

“Forgive me.”

“Forgiven.” You nodded. “You were so worried about her, and I couldn’t blame you. But you were being a jackass.”

“I just remember racing home and by the time I got upstairs, everyone was in bed, except for you. You stayed with her all night.”

“So you made me a cup of coffee.” You finished for him. 

Logan nodded. “I remember all of that. Why’d you ask?”

“Because I’m glad it happened.” You told him. “Not Rouge getting sick, but…the moment. I’m glad we became friends with Logan, because it made me trust you outside of being an X-Man. And, I’m sorry about all the disgusting things you’ve witnessed in the past couple of days but…I’m glad you were the one to help me. I trust you, Logan. With my life. Both figuratively and literally.”

Logan shifted his hand so it held onto yours. “I’m glad, too.”

A few moments passed and you both broke eye contact when a pair of familiar heels were heard coming down the hallway. 

“Here you both are.”

Jean was finally back. “You’re looking better than Logan described.”

You looked at Logan for a moment before looking back at Jean. “Yeah, it’s been…rough.”

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better now,” you smiled a little. “Logan had a lot to do with it.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. I’m just gonna go and check on everyone else. Make sure they’re not coming down with something, too. Are you two okay here?”

You nodded, “We’re fine.”

Jean didn’t fail to spot where Logan was holding your hand, and she gave a brief smile before heading towards the door. 

A week later you were right as rain and was finally getting to see something you had been begging to witness all week. 

Logan cook. 

You sat by the kitchen island, watching him prepare the ingredients, cook said ingredients, all the while creating a delicious meal that wasn’t just soup and crackers, all without burning the house down. 

“So you really know how to cook?” You asked, bouncing a wooden spoon between your fingertips. 

“I really know how to cook.” Logan said with a small smile as he sliced through the pastry. 

“Why don’t you do it more often?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Pass me that?”

You handed over the wooden spoon and Logan started stirring something. “Come and try this.”

And you did. 

That night, you both sat out on the balcony, watching the stars go by. 

And, as you sat there, watching the stars go by, the music from the record player steaming out from the kitchen, you looked over at Logan and realised something. 

You trusted him. 

You more than trusted him. 

You, in fact, loved him. 

It would be a few months more before something would happen between you both, but you would come to find out that Logan had realised that exact same thing. But rather than realise it out on the balcony, he had realised it for himself back inside the kitchen when you had stood beside him. 

He couldn’t make sense of it at the time. Why, for such a small moment, had he realised then. But either way, he was thankful for it. Both of your lives were lived in higher stakes. 

To have a small moment feels so connected with such a big one…

Looking at you, and having you look back in the same manner…

That meant the world to him. 

In sickness and in health, 

Levi didn’t open his eyes yet. He shifted his awareness instead, cataloging the way Remi’s chest rose and fell behind him, the weight of an arm slung low across his waist. It was loose, slack with sleep, but still there—anchoring, even unconscious.

Heat bled through the blankets.

Too much of it.

Levi frowned faintly and tilted his head just enough to register it properly. Remi was burning up again. Not the gentle warmth from earlier, but the kind that radiated, seeped, made the air between them feel thick. Levi could feel it along his back, along his shoulder blades, soaking through fabric and skin alike.

A quiet sniffle sounded behind him.

Soft. Wet. Almost swallowed before it finished.

Levi’s eyes fluttered open a fraction.

Remi lay close, face pressed somewhere near Levi’s shoulder, dark lashes resting against flushed skin. His nose was red, irritated at the tip, the bridge faintly pink like it had been rubbed too many times already. His lips were parted, breath coming through his mouth in small, tired huffs, the corners of his mouth slack with sleep.

Another sniffle followed a few breaths later, thicker this time.

Levi stayed still, waiting.

Remi shifted restlessly, brow drawing together as if whatever sleep he was clinging to had turned uncomfortable. His arm tightened without warning, pulling Levi closer by instinct rather than thought. Levi felt the tug at his middle, the quiet insistence of it, and let himself be drawn in.

Remi made a low sound in his throat—half whine, half breath—pressed directly into Levi’s shoulder. It wasn’t a word. Barely even a noise. Just something miserable and unconscious, leaking out of him as he sought warmth.

His breathing stuttered.

Not fully—not yet.

Levi felt it before he heard it: a hitch at the end of an inhale, a subtle tension pulling through Remi’s chest. The arm around Levi tightened again, fingers flexing weakly at his side.

Remi’s nose twitched.

Once.

Then again.

A breath pulled in, sharper than the others, chest lifting as if bracing for something that didn’t quite arrive. Levi felt the pause stretch—too long, fragile—the edge of a sneeze hovering undecided.

“Hh—” Remi’s breath snagged, caught high and thin.

Levi held his own breath without realizing it.

Nothing followed.

The tension broke instead into a shaky, stuffy exhale that puffed warm air against Levi’s collarbone. Remi sagged with it, shoulders dropping as the effort drained out of him. A faint, frustrated sound followed—more breath than voice—as if his body had expected relief and been denied.

He sniffed again, congested and quiet.

Levi shifted just enough to turn his head, careful not to jostle him. His hand slid back automatically, resting over Remi’s forearm where it lay across his waist. The skin there was hot—too hot.

“Hey…” Levi murmured, voice rough and low from sleep. Not meant to wake. Just… there.

Remi didn’t open his eyes.

But he pressed closer anyway, forehead nudging against the back of Levi’s shoulder, mouth-breathing deepening as if the contact alone made things easier. His arm tightened, possessive in the loosest, sleepiest way, drawing Levi flush against his chest.

Another sniffle. Softer this time.

Levi let his eyes close again, adjusting just enough to fit better against him. The closeness settled, inevitable and slow, not sudden or startled—just the natural answer to where they already were.

Late morning light continued to creep across the room.

And Remi, burning and half-asleep, held on like letting go hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Levi tried to shift.

It was barely an attempt, more a thought than a movement, the idea of rolling his shoulder or lifting his head just enough to breathe easier. The effort stalled halfway through, turning into a quiet, involuntary groan as his body reminded him exactly how bad an idea that was.

His limbs felt heavy, like they had been filled with sand. His throat scraped when he swallowed, dry and sore, and a pulse of dizziness washed through him the moment he tensed his core.

Behind him, Remi reacted instantly.

His arm tightened around Levi’s middle, no hesitation, no thought, just reflex. The loose, sleepy hold from before turned firm, pulling Levi back against his chest like a magnet snapping into place.

“Don’t…” Remi mumbled, voice thick and wrecked, the word barely making it past his lips. His face pressed harder into Levi’s shoulder, nose nudging clumsily as he burrowed closer. “…stay.”

Levi stilled.

He hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t warned him. Hadn’t even moved enough to justify the response, and yet Remi had felt it anyway. Tracking him through sleep and fever and congestion like letting go simply was not an option.

Levi exhaled slowly, the resistance leaving his body. “Okay,” he murmured hoarsely. “I’m here.”

Remi made a small, satisfied sound in response, more breath than noise. His grip loosened just a fraction, enough to settle back into something exhausted rather than urgent. His face stayed tucked against Levi’s shoulder, mouth-breathing warm and uneven, each exhale damp against Levi’s skin.

A wet sniffle followed.

Then another, sharper this time.

Levi felt the subtle tension creep back into Remi’s chest, the way his breathing changed when his nose decided to make things worse. His arm tightened again, not around Levi this time, but at his own side, fingers flexing weakly like he was bracing.

“Hh… hhh…” Remi’s breath hitched, low and frustrated.

Levi didn’t move. He just waited.

Remi inhaled shallowly through his mouth, then tried, unsuccessfully, to draw a breath through his nose. His nostrils flared, red and irritated, the sound of it thick and blocked.

“Shit,” he muttered faintly, half-asleep and already annoyed.

The sneezes came without much warning.

“Hh’… hh—hEhTXSSHhh’ih! Hd’IZTSsHHhhh’ih!”

They were tight and congested, forced through swollen sinuses, snapping his head forward just enough that his forehead bumped Levi’s shoulder. He froze for a second afterward, breath stuck, then slumped back with a rough, embarrassed sniff.

“Fuckin’ A,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked, like the effort of the sneezes had taken more out of him than he wanted to admit.

Levi didn’t say anything at first. He just shifted closer and rested his hand over Remi’s where it lay against his ribs, thumb brushing once in a slow, grounding stroke. He smiled at him—soft, understanding, fond in that way that didn’t need words.

They lay there for a moment, neither of them moving, the room filled with the sound of their breathing. Levi became aware of his own symptoms again in the stillness, the ache in his joints, the pressure behind his eyes, the faint buzz in his nose that promised trouble if he tried too hard to ignore it.

He exhaled slowly, the truth settling into him without resistance.
“We’re clearly still not better yet,” he croaked, voice low and worn thin.

Remi didn’t argue. He didn’t even open his eyes. If anything, his body eased, the tension in his shoulders loosening as though the words had given him permission to stop holding himself together. He pressed closer, nose nudging into the warmth of Levi’s shoulder, breath heavy and uneven but calmer now.

“That’s okay,” he murmured, barely more than breath.

Levi tilted his head slightly. “What do you mean, ‘that’s okay’?”

“Means we don’t gotta get up,” Remi mumbled, words blurring together.

Another sniffle punctuated it, quieter this time, followed by a tired mouth-breathed exhale.

Levi reached back and threaded his fingers gently through Remi’s hair, feeling him melt at the touch. “Yeah,” he murmured. “No work. No plans. Just bed.”

Remi’s grip tightened once more, not desperate now, just content. His breathing evened out as much as it could with a blocked nose, warm and steady against Levi’s neck.

“Don’t have to convince me,” he whispered, already drifting again.

Late morning light continued to spill into the room, unhurried.

And both of them stayed exactly where they were, sick, exhausted, and quietly agreed on one thing.

Today could wait.

Levi shifted carefully, testing his own balance before he moved any further.

His head still swam, and his throat burned every time he swallowed, but Remi’s heat against his back had climbed from warm to concerning. The kind that lingered too steadily, too intensely, like it had no intention of breaking on its own.

“Hey,” Levi murmured, low and close. “Rem.”

Remi made a vague noise in response, something between a hum and a grumble. His arms tightened reflexively, drawing Levi back in like he hadn’t meant to let him go at all.

“Stay,” Remi muttered, nose brushing Levi’s shoulder. His voice sounded thicker than before, congested and dull. “M’fine.”

Levi turned just enough to face him, careful not to jostle his head. Up close, the signs were impossible to miss. Remi’s cheeks were flushed deeper than earlier, his skin hot and faintly damp. His nose was red at the tip, irritated and shiny, and every few breaths he sniffed quietly, like he was trying not to draw attention to it.

“You’re not,” Levi said gently. Not sharp, not teasing. Just certain. “I need to check your temperature.”

Remi cracked one eye open, then squinted at him. “Did already,” he mumbled. “Last night.”

“And it’s morning now.” Levi brushed his thumb along Remi’s jaw, grounding. “C’mon, Acushla.”

The nickname landed softly, familiar and steady. Remi’s resistance faded almost immediately. He sighed, long and tired, and loosened his grip enough to let Levi move.

“Don’t like it,” Remi grumbled as Levi reached for the thermometer on the nightstand. “Makes my mouth dry.”

“I know,” Levi said, calm and patient. “It’ll be quick.”

Remi let him guide the thermometer from the nightstand under his tongue with minimal fuss, lips closing around it obediently. He settled back into the pillows, eyes drifting half-shut again, one hand finding Levi’s sleeve and curling there like a tether.

For a few seconds, everything was still.

Then Remi’s nose twitched.

Levi noticed immediately.

Remi did too.

He froze, breath stalling halfway in, shoulders lifting just a little. His nostrils flared, red and irritated, the sound of his breathing turning thin and careful as he fought to keep the thermometer in place.

“Hh…” His breath hitched quietly through his nose, then he switched to his mouth, cheeks hollowing slightly. His brow furrowed in concentration, frustration flickering across his face.

Levi rested a steady hand against his chest. “Easy,” he murmured. “Almost there.”

Remi nodded faintly, jaw tense around the thermometer. His breathing grew shallow, controlled, like he was counting seconds in his head. Another tickle danced along his sinuses, obvious in the way his nose wrinkled again.

“Hh’… hhh…” He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting it, shoulders trembling.

The thermometer beeped.

Remi yanked it out immediately and turned his head away, breath snapping in sharp and helpless.

“hhEhh-! HhEHh’iiTShh’IIEW! hiiih’ISHHHh—uhH!! HAHH’IKKTsh—uhh!!”

The sneezes burst out tight and congested, snapping his head forward before he could stop them. He groaned afterward, dragging the back of his hand under his nose with a miserable sniff.

“Fuck,” he muttered hoarsely.

Levi smiled faintly and pressed a tissue into his hand. “Bless, Acushla” he said. “I’m impressed you held it back.”

Remi blew his nose quietly, embarrassed, then sniffed again. “Didn’t wanna spit it out,” he admitted, voice rough. “Figured you’d make me do it again.”

“I absolutely would have,” Levi said mildly, checking the reading.

Remi watched his face, eyes heavy and unfocused. “How bad?”

Levi hesitated just a fraction. “Still high,” he said honestly. “A little higher than last night.”

Remi closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillow. “Figures.”

Levi set the thermometer aside and climbed back into bed, pulling the blankets up around them again. Remi immediately turned toward him, pressing close, forehead resting against Levi’s collarbone as if drawn there by instinct.

“…Feels weird,” Remi said quietly after a moment.

Levi stilled, listening.

“Not bein’ the one,” Remi continued, voice low and unsteady. “Not… holdin’ everything together.”

The words were barely there, more confession than complaint. He didn’t look at Levi when he said it. Just breathed against him, warm and uneven.

Levi wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held him firmly. “You don’t have to,” he said softly. “I’ve got you today.”

Remi’s breath shuddered out of him, relief easing through his posture. He nodded once, small and tired, and tucked his face into Levi’s shoulder again.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Just for today.”

Levi kissed his hair and let him cling.

Outside, the late morning light held steady.

The day made everything louder.

Not in sound, exactly, but in sensation. The room had warmed with the sun climbing higher, the stale air growing thick and close, clinging to skin and lungs alike. Even the light felt heavier now, pale gold spilling across the bed and catching on dust that had no business being there.

Remi shifted restlessly beneath the blankets.

His nose had been bothering him for a while now, Levi realized. Not all at once, not dramatically, but in the small ways that always came first. The faint redness at the tip. The way he kept breathing through his mouth between shallow sniffs. The barely-there wrinkle of his nose every few breaths, like his body was arguing with itself.

“Hh…” Remi sniffed, frustrated, rubbing his nose once against Levi’s shoulder before stopping himself. “Damn it.”

Levi lifted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Remi said automatically. Then, quieter, more honest. “No.”

His breath hitched without warning.

“Hh’… hih…”

Levi felt the tension coil through him, the way his chest tightened as he tried to hold it back. Remi turned his face slightly into the pillow, shoulders lifting as he braced.

“hh'IETSH’UE! Hhh—! HI’DTSCHIEW!”

The sneezes snapped out of him, tight and congested, barely clearing anything. He groaned softly afterward, sniffing hard.

“Shit,” he muttered immediately.

He barely had time to breathe before it happened again.

“Hh’… ihH’ktdSHhh!!”

This one made him jerk forward slightly, hand flying up too late to be useful. He sniffed again, wet and irritated, then scrubbed at his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, more reflex than thought.

Levi frowned and shifted closer. “Hey. Stop that.”

Remi blinked at him, bleary. “Stop what?”

“Saying sorry.” Levi reached up and brushed his thumb gently under Remi’s nose, grounding. “You’re sick. You don’t need to apologize for existing.”

Remi huffed a weak laugh that turned into another sniffle. “Hard habit t’break.”

The warmth in the room did not help. If anything, it made the congestion swell tighter, heavier. Remi’s nose twitched again, sharper this time, and he let out a low, warning sound.

“Oh no…”

“Hh’… hih—hih—”

Levi stayed still, letting him ride it out.

“Hh'IISHH! —hd’ISCHhh!! —h’dtTISHh! ”

The cluster hit fast, three quick sneezes back to back, both short and miserable. Remi sagged afterward, breathing through his mouth, eyes squeezed shut.

“Gods,” he muttered hoarsely. “That’s gettin’ old.”

Levi smiled faintly and handed him a tissue. “You’re doing great.”

Remi took it, blew his nose quietly, then sniffed again to check. “Liar.”

Levi chuckled, but the sound faded into a soft cough he couldn’t quite suppress. He turned his head away instinctively, coughing again, dry and shallow, like his throat was scraped raw.

Remi noticed immediately.

“Hey,” he murmured, concern cutting through his fog. “You’re not doin’ great either.”

Levi shrugged weakly. “I’m fine.”

Remi gave him a look that said he did not believe that for a second. He shifted carefully, wincing as the movement sent another tickle through his nose, but he pushed through it anyway.

“C’mere,” he said quietly.

Before Levi could argue, Remi adjusted the pillows with deliberate care, propping them up just right. He eased Levi back against his chest instead, reversing their positions with surprising gentleness. His arms wrapped around Levi slowly, intentionally, like he was afraid of jostling him.

Levi sighed as the new position settled, the weight off his own aching body. “Rem…”

“Shh,” Remi murmured, pressing his face briefly into Levi’s hair. “Your turn.”

He held him there, careful despite the tremor in his hands, one arm snug around Levi’s middle, the other resting over his chest. His breathing was still thick, still congested, punctuated by the occasional sniffle, but he seemed calmer like this.

Another tickle flickered through his nose. He scrunched it, sniffed once, then managed to suppress the sneeze with a quiet huff.

“M’Sorry,” he started again, then stopped himself.

Levi smiled into his chest.

Remi exhaled and leaned down just enough to press a soft kiss to Levi’s temple. No comment. No hesitation. Just warmth, and choice, and care given on purpose.

They settled there together, daylight heavy around them, sickness loud in small ways, and love louder than all of it.

The quiet that followed felt earned.

Not empty, not heavy—just settled. The kind that came after effort, after deciding not to push anymore. Sunlight warmed the edge of the bed, and somewhere beyond the room a day was happening without them. Neither seemed particularly interested.

Levi shifted carefully, starting to reach for the thermos on the nightstand. The movement was slow and deliberate, like he didn’t quite trust his body to cooperate if he rushed it.

Remi noticed immediately.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice rough and thick. “Don’t, that’s been there for hours.”

Levi paused and glanced back at him. “I was just gonna get some broth.”

Remi shook his head once, already pushing himself upright. The motion made him wince, shoulders slumping forward as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“I’ll heat you up some soup from the fridge,” he said, stubborn even through the congestion clogging his voice.

Levi frowned. “Rem, you feel awful. You don’t need to get up.”

“I know,” Remi replied. He sniffed hard, then rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, irritation flickering across his face. “Still gonna.”

He stood slowly, pausing for balance. The room seemed to tilt just a little, enough to make him breathe out through his mouth and steady himself against the bedframe.

Levi watched him with concern written plainly across his face. “You really don’t have to.”

Remi glanced back over his shoulder, eyes dull with fever but steady. “Your throat’s wreckin’ you,” he said quietly. “Soup’ll help. Just stay.”

Levi hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. But if you start feeling worse, you come back. Deal?”

Remi gave a vague nod and shuffled toward the kitchen, shoulders hunched slightly as if the air itself felt heavy. The fridge light washed over him as he opened it, blinking against the brightness. He pulled out a container of leftover soup, sniffed once, then turned his head sharply away.

“Hh’… hih—”

He barely had time to angle himself aside before the sneeze tore out of him.

“hhh’ISCHih!”

It snapped his head forward, tight and congested. He groaned quietly afterward, rubbing at his nose before sniffing again, thick and irritated.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

He straightened, poured the soup into a bowl, and slid it into the microwave. As it hummed to life, he leaned back against the counter, eyes closing briefly. His chest rose and fell unevenly, mouth-breathing the way he had been all morning.

Another tickle built too fast for him to ignore.

“Hh… hhh…”

He turned away again, sneezing once more, “iH’tSSH!”, shorter this time, followed immediately by a rough, chesty cough that doubled him over slightly. He braced himself on the counter, coughing into his fist until it eased, breath rasping when it finally stopped.

By the time the microwave beeped, he looked exhausted. Flushed, nose red, eyes glassy. He stirred the soup slowly, waiting for the steam to settle, then carried it back toward the bedroom with careful steps.

Levi was waiting, propped up against the pillows, watching the doorway like he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

Remi set the bowl down on the nightstand and sat beside him with a tired sigh. “Told you,” he murmured. “Easy.”

Levi reached out, fingers brushing Remi’s hand. “You okay?”

Remi shrugged faintly. “I lived.”

Levi smiled, soft and grateful, and leaned in to take the spoon. The warmth hit his throat almost immediately, easing the ache there. He looked up at Remi after the first bite.

“Thank you.”

Remi nodded once, already leaning back against the headboard, eyes closing as he listened to Levi breathe a little easier. Despite how miserable he looked, there was something settled in his posture now. Like doing this had been worth the effort.

He reached out and rested his hand against Levi’s knee, grounding himself there.

“Eat,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

And for once, Levi didn’t argue.

Remi watched closely, brows knit in focus like this was a critical operation.

“Too hot?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” Levi said. He took another bite, then paused to huff a content sigh. Only then did Remi relax back into the pillows, eyes drooping.

Levi turned the bowl slightly and held up a spoonful. “Your turn.”

Remi hesitated. His nose was still red, breathing thick and uneven, and he sniffed before leaning forward.

He took a small sip from the outstretched spoon.

The steam hit his face just right.

“Oh—shit—”

His breath hitched sharply, shoulders tensing as he froze mid-sip, trying desperately not to spill or choke.

“Hh—hih—”

Levi stilled instantly, steadying the bowl, his other hand already bracing Remi’s shoulder.

“Hh…h’dtTISHh! Hihh’ISSHh! H-hihh! heh’iTTSHH’IEW! Ugh…”

The sneezes tore out of him, sharp and wet, broth sloshing dangerously close to the rim as his head snapped forward. He groaned afterward, breath ragged, nose running immediately.

“Dammit,” he muttered hoarsely. “Sorry—”

Levi didn’t say anything.

He set the bowl aside without fuss, reached for a tissue, and wiped Remi’s face gently, catching the mess with practiced ease. His touch was slow, unhurried, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Remi went very still.

Levi dabbed under his nose, wiped his upper lip, then brushed his thumb lightly along Remi’s cheek. Only then did he speak.

“You okay?”

Remi nodded, throat working as he swallowed. “Yeah.” A pause. “…Thanks.”

Levi picked the bowl back up and held out another spoonful, this time guiding it closer. “Small sips,” he said softly. “I’ve got it.”

Remi let him.

He leaned forward just enough, letting Levi tilt the spoon, taking a careful mouthful this time. It took him a second to swallow, congestion making everything harder, but when he did, his shoulders dropped a fraction.

“There you go,” Levi murmured.

Remi made a quiet, noncommittal sound that might have been a complaint if it didn’t come paired with him leaning closer, resting his forehead briefly against Levi’s shoulder. He didn’t pull away right away.

“You’re enjoyin’ this,” he grumbled weakly.

Levi smiled, just a little. “Maybe.”

Remi didn’t argue. He stayed there, breathing through his mouth, eyes closed, letting Levi hold the bowl and the moment and him.

When Levi offered another sip, Remi took it without protest.

And afterward, when Levi set the bowl aside and eased him back against the pillows, Remi didn’t fill the quiet with jokes or apologies. He just stayed close, overwhelmed in the softest way, fingers curling into Levi’s shirt like he needed to anchor himself to something solid.

Levi wrapped an arm around him and held on.

Something warm, at last, settled between them.

Remi stayed quiet longer than usual.

It wasn’t the peaceful kind of quiet that came with settling or sleep, but something tighter, more aware. Levi felt it in the way Remi’s arms stayed wrapped around him without loosening, in how his grip adjusted every few breaths like he was checking to make sure Levi was still there.

Eventually, Remi let out a breath that sounded like it scraped on the way out.

“Feels like I’m… takin’ up too much space today,” he murmured, voice low and worn thin. Not a joke. Just an observation. “Can’t stop holdin’ onto you. Can’t do much else.”

Levi shifted slightly, enough to meet his eyes. He didn’t rush to contradict him.

Remi sniffed, frustration tightening his jaw. “S’posed to be better than this,” he added quietly. “Instead I’m just—” He faltered, mouth pressing into a thin line as he searched for the word. “Heavy.”

His arm loosened, not pulling away entirely, just easing like he was giving Levi the option to leave if he wanted it.

Levi noticed immediately.

He caught Remi’s wrist with gentle certainty, thumb pressing into the warm skin there. “Hey,” he said, calm and steady. “Stay.”

Remi blinked at him, unfocused. “I’m not—”

Levi leaned in before the thought could finish forming, resting his forehead against Remi’s. Their breaths mingled there, warm and uneven, close enough that Remi had to breathe through his mouth.

“You don’t have to disappear just because you’re sick,” Levi said quietly. “Or because you need me.”

The words landed without force. Just truth.

Remi’s breath hitched. His shoulders sagged, the tension bleeding out of him in a slow collapse. He didn’t argue. Didn’t deflect. He just nodded once, tired and small, and let himself lean forward until their foreheads pressed more firmly together.

“…Feels safer like this, anyway,” he admitted, voice barely there.

Levi didn’t hesitate. He shifted closer, sealing the space Remi had almost given up.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

Remi let out a breath that sounded like relief finally finding somewhere to land. His arms tightened again, not frantic, not desperate, just sure. He stayed there, breathing through his mouth, nose pressed lightly against Levi’s cheek, eyes closed.

They didn’t rush the moment.

They didn’t need to.

Outside, the day continued on without them. Inside, wrapped in warmth and sickness and trust, Remi stayed exactly where he was.

Levi didn’t realize how bad he was getting until his body reminded him all at once.

It started with a shiver.

Not a dramatic one, just a subtle tremor that ran through him as he leaned into Remi’s chest, like his muscles had forgotten how to hold warmth on their own. He inhaled to steady himself and felt the scrape in his throat flare sharply in protest.

He swallowed.

Winced.

Remi felt it immediately.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice still thick but alert now. His hand slid up Levi’s back, rubbing slow, grounding circles between his shoulders. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I’m—” Levi tried, then stopped when the tickle bloomed suddenly behind his nose. He barely had time to draw a breath before it hit.

“Hh… Eh’schh’iue!! H'ptschu! H-hhih! Hhih’eeshiew!! H’etshhiEW!”

The fit slipped out small and quiet, muffled directly into Remi’s shirt where Levi had leaned forward without thinking. He froze afterward, embarrassed, breath hitching as he sniffled softly.

“Sorry—”

Remi tightened his arms around him at once.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Bless you, kitten.” His hand kept moving, steady and warm. “You okay?”

Levi nodded, though his nose buzzed uncomfortably now, congestion creeping in to join the ache and fatigue. He coughed a little, shallow and dry, turning his face away instinctively.

Remi followed him without complaint, shifting just enough to keep Levi supported. He rubbed Levi’s back more firmly now, the motion deliberate despite the tremor in his own hands.

“Easy,” Remi murmured. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Another shiver ran through Levi, stronger this time. He curled closer without meaning to, shoulders tucking inward as he tried to contain it.

Remi noticed.

Without a word, he pulled the blankets higher around them, tucking them in with surprising care. He pressed his chin lightly to the top of Levi’s head, mouth-breathing warm and steady, sharing what heat he could.

Levi coughed again, a little rougher.

“Sorry,” he rasped automatically.

Remi huffed softly. “Nope. Not doin’ that.” He tipped Levi’s chin gently, just enough to keep him from curling too far in on himself. “You don’t apologize either. You hear me?”

Levi smiled faintly, exhausted. “Right.”

He sniffed again, quieter this time, understanding his body’s limits a little too late. His breathing grew heavier, slower, fatigue settling deep in his bones.

Remi held him through it all.

He kept rubbing Levi’s back, murmuring small, steady things under his breath—nonsense words, encouragement, quiet reassurances meant more for rhythm than meaning. Every so often, he pressed a gentle kiss into Levi’s hair or temple, grounding both of them.

“You’re doin’ good,” Remi whispered. “Just rest. I’ve got you.”

Levi let himself believe it.

He sagged into Remi’s chest, breathing shallow but calmer now, letting the warmth and the touch hold him together. Remi adjusted instinctively, arms firm but gentle, cradling Levi like this was exactly where he belonged.

Neither of them said anything about fairness.

They didn’t need to.

Care moved back and forth between them without being counted, without being questioned. One breath, one touch, one quiet moment at a time.

And together, sick and tired and held, they stayed exactly where they were.

The afternoon didn’t announce itself.

It simply kept going.

Light shifted across the room in slow, patient increments, the sun climbing just enough to warm the foot of the bed before drifting higher. The air felt different now, less tight, less oppressive, like the room itself had decided to loosen its grip. Outside, something moved faintly, wind or distant life, but it never pushed its way in.

They hadn’t meant to sleep.

It happened anyway.

Levi’s breathing was the first thing to change. The shallow hitch in his chest softened, the dry scrape in his throat easing into something steadier. Each inhale came slower than the last, his shoulders gradually losing the tension they had been holding onto all morning.

Remi noticed.

He always did.

His fever hadn’t broken, not fully, but it had eased enough to leave him clear-headed in brief stretches. Enough to register that Levi’s weight had gone slack against him, that the restless fidgeting had stilled. Enough to shift carefully, adjusting without waking him.

Levi ended up half sprawled across Remi’s chest, one leg tangled with his, cheek resting just below Remi’s collarbone. It wasn’t neat. It didn’t need to be. Remi draped an arm around him instinctively, palm settling warm and sure against Levi’s back.

His breathing stayed open-mouthed, soft and slow, brushing gently over Levi’s hairline with each exhale. It stirred the fine strands there, a steady rhythm that grounded them both.

Levi stirred faintly, then settled again.

His fingers moved without thought, tracing slow, absent shapes along Remi’s arm. Circles. Lines. Nothing with meaning beyond the comfort of motion. Remi felt it and didn’t interrupt, only leaned his cheek lightly against Levi’s temple, eyes drifting closed again.

The room grew quieter.

Not empty, just complete.

Light crept higher along the wall, then slid away as clouds passed, the warmth shifting with it. Time blurred into something gentle and unimportant. They existed in the space between breaths, between moments, held together by heat and weight and the simple fact of choosing to stay right where they were.

Remi’s arm tightened once, just enough to reaffirm the hold.

Levi didn’t wake, but he leaned in closer anyway.

And in the soft drift of afternoon, with sickness still lingering but no longer loud, they rested there together, choosing each other again, quietly, without needing to say it out loud.

Intro: Dove gets the Flu

*Sniffling and coughing*

‘Guhh…. Stupid cough, how long is this work meeting going to last?’ You asked yourself as you sat there looking at your computer, for the past three days, you’d been feeling off, but today… you realized very soon after waking that you were most definitely coming down with something. Everyone began to sign off, and you had never been happier to close your laptop for the day, you crawled out from underneath your pile of blankets only to instantly begin shivering,

“Damnit…. Of all the days to get sick.” You cursed, rubbing your arms as you padded out to the kitchen, starting your kettle and reaching for the cold and flu medicine in your cabinet. You felt awful, your body ached everywhere, and you felt as if someone had completely clogged your sinuses. You’d barely slept at all the night before due to this, so, on top of all of this, you were exhausted. You poured yourself a dose and downed the awful tasting medicine in one go,

“Oww…” You hissed as you hobbled back to the couch. The more you moved, the more you ached. You curled up under your blanket and gave a miserable groan, followed by a cough. You poked your head out from under the blanket and grabbed your phone, bringing up John’s contact.

D: John…. I need you…

~~~~~~~~

John had never been so eager to get out of a briefing as he was right now. He’d seen the message come straight across his hud and was internally running through every bad scenario in his mind. Were you hurt? Had something terrible happened? His mind was abuzz with terrible thoughts as he calmly yet briskly walked back to his quarters, removing only his helmet.

“Cortana, warp me in.” He said quickly, taking her from his bedside console and inserting her chip into his neural lace. He blinked rapidly as he found himself standing in your living room, right across from your shaking, feverish form.

“I’m here….” John announced as he knelt next to your couch, “What’s wrong, Dove?”

John’s brow furrowed as a series of coughs escaped you, followed by a whimper.

“Dove…” John’s voice was thick with concern as he reached a still armored hand out to pull the blanket back and reveal your face. Your brows were scrunched together as you tried warding off the series of painful shivers currently enveloping you. Your red, glassy eyes opened slowly, looking at him in confusion,

“Jo-*Shiver* John? Wha-what are yo-you doing he-here?”

“You messaged me, love. You said you needed me.” John replied, his hand resting on the side of your face. He could feel the heat through his gel suit! You moaned in misery, leaning into his touch,

“Yo-your hand is ni-nice and co-cold.” You shuddered, glancing at his armored form,

“We-were yo-you in a bri-briefing–

“It doesn’t matter,” John interjected, moving closer to you and managing to gently pick you up from your miserable place on the couch. You shivered violently, attempting to snuggle closer to him, but the armor prevented you from doing so. But you had to admit. It felt nice against your overly warm body. You hissed as John’s arm moved, prompting a spike of pain to shoot through your already shivering form.

“O-Oww…”

“I’m sorry….” John apologized quickly, you shook your head as you attempted to snuggle closer to him,

“S’not you-your fault, e-everything hurts….”

John gave an empathetic look as he placed you on your bed, placing the covers over you before walking back out to your kitchen and grabbing you some more medicine. He knew he couldn’t stay very long, and he hated it, but he was going to have to wait until later to be able to care for you.

“I’ll be back later….” He stated, kneeling beside your bed, his hand delicately caressing your face, “In the meantime, just rest.”

You nodded, scrunching into a ball of misery, barely registering the kiss he left on the top of your head before falling back asleep.

~~~~~~~

“She’s sick??” Fred asked later as he and the other Spartans cooled down after their workout. John nodded as he took a sip of water,

“Why are you here then, Chief?” Kelly asked as she stretched,

“I can’t just stay there whenever something comes up.” John replied. Even though he wanted to, he couldn’t risk anyone getting suspicious.

“Why not?” Linda questioned, raising her eyebrow,

“Because if a Spartan isn’t around when they're supposed to be, command will get nosey.” Fred answered for John as he could tell John wasn’t really in the mood to be peppered with questions. He knew that John would much rather be there caring for you than here.

~~~~~~

You woke up later feeling absolutely awful, your head felt like someone had used it for a punching bag, and your sinuses were still pounding. You weren’t shivering quite as severely, but you could tell from how cold you felt that you still definitely had a fever. On top of all that, you noticed that you had latched onto something, this something was warm, and the shirt felt incredibly familiar. You gave a weak smile as you looked up to see John’s sleeping face. He must’ve been able to get away after all. You sighed happily as one of his arms carefully rubbed your sore, aching back, the other you’d apparently been using as a pillow. You snuggled closer against his side, moving your head to rest on his chest as the soothing sound of his heartbeat met your clogged ears.

“Dove?” John asked sleepily as his eyes began to open. You glanced up at him and gave a tired smile.

“Hi…” You greeted weakly before quickly turning and covering a sneeze that wracked your entire body,

“Owww…” You whined, clenching your teeth at the pain it caused, John’s face showing concern as you turned back to him,

“I’m fine….” You assured him as he wrapped you up in his arms, “I’m just exhausted….”

“I know….” John said as he kissed the top of your head, “Cortana said you have a bad case of the flu.”

“Goodie…” Your tired, sarcastic tone made John chuckle a bit as he nuzzled the top of your head, being considerate of how sore you were.

“When did you take medicine last?” He asked after the two of you had been lying there for a few minutes. You were already more than half-asleep but managed to respond.

“Don’t know…. M’tired.”

“I know, love. How much water have you had?”

You shrugged in response as you’d been too busy suffering to care, “I don’t remember….”

John sighed as he let go of your feverish form and shifted,

“Heyyyy….” You whined, “Where are you going?”

“To get you some water….” John replied, smiling as he delicately booped your nose,

~~~~~~~

John spent the rest of the day making sure you were drinking enough water, giving you meds, and consoling you when your body decided to screw you over and send you into spirals of pain, which is what you were currently going through right now.

“It’s alright, love, just breathe….” John consoled as you curled up even more,

“It hurts.” You whimpered. John felt his chest constrict at every pained noise,

“I know… it’ll go away soon….”

You nodded, burying your head in John’s chest as another wave of pain overtook you. You hissed and tried to ignore the waves of nausea that wouldn’t leave you alone. Could this get any worse?

~~~~~~~

Well, you shouldn’t have said anything, the next day, you couldn’t even keep water down, and worse yet, you were struggling because John wasn’t there when you woke up. You understood he had to maintain appearances, but this well and truly sucked. You shuddered as you attempted to move away from the toilet, having been camped there for quite some time as you had been vomiting seemingly every twenty minutes or so.

“Gross…” You groaned as you felt another wave of nausea overtake you, causing you to move toward the toilet once again. After another ten minutes of vomiting, you were sure there was NOTHING left in your stomach, so you pushed yourself up from the floor, rinsed your mouth out, and crawled back to bed. You hoped you’d be able to keep the medicine down as you curled up underneath the covers. As you lay there, you wished John was with you. Being sick was, without a doubt, the WORST thing ever.

“How’s she been today, Cortana?”

“She’s barely moved. She’s been unable to keep anything down and has been sleeping most of the day.”

You felt a cool, repetitive motion starting from your forehead and trailing down to your cheek, the cold causing a miserable whine to fall from your chapped lips.

“Easy Dove….” John’s voice sounded so loud, yet the deep, roughness caused a pleasant rining as you felt a slight pressure against your cheek,

“Cortana…”

“Scanning, fever spiked again. She currently has a temperature of 103.5.”

Your eyes slowly opened, though it was difficult from how heavy they felt. Finally, you were able to make out John’s concerned face as he knelt next to your bed. Cold compress in hand and a look of deep concern on his face.

“Jo-John?” Your teeth clacked together as you stared at your worried Spartan, “Wha-what are you do-doing he-here?”

“Cortana alerted me that you were getting worse.”

“I’m fi-fine….” You weakly argued,

“Love….” John’s soft, empathetic tone sparked an odd reaction, and next you knew, you were crying.

“I-I ju-just wa-want to fee-feel better….” You sobbed. John quickly placed the cold compress aside and promptly pulled you into his arms, shushing your cries and kissing your hair softly.

“I know, I’m sorry, Dove… you’ll feel better soon…. Don’t cry, you’ll only make yourself feel worse.”

After your bout of crying came another round of vomiting, and finally…. finally, you were curled up beside John, thankful that he could stay with you. On the other hand, John was distressed, to say the least. He hated this. The vomiting and whatnot didn’t bother him whatsoever, but the sight of you sobbing in a miserable heap in his arms just about did him in. He couldn’t ease your pain, he couldn’t do anything but offer emotional and physical support, and it was KILLING him.

“Cortana,” He whispered, his blue companion appearing once again,

“Chief?”

“Can you get me access to the frigate's medical supplies?”

“Chief, that might not be a good idea. Do we even know if it would help her? It might make her feel worse?”

“It won’t….” John assured his AI glancing down at your sweaty, shaking form. Cortana’s form disappeared as she went to work on what John requested,

“Don’t worry, love….” He whispered as he brushed his lips over your forehead, “You’ll feel better soon….”

~~~~~~

A small whimper escaped you as John attempted to get you to swallow the medicine. You were still in a fevered haze and hated the feeling of whatever was going into your mouth.

“Come on, Dove,” John gently urged, “This will help you recover…. There we go… good job, love.”

Once the medicine was distributed, John went and grabbed a tepid cloth, wiping the sweat from your face before climbing back into bed with you, also taking the time to wipe down your neck and shoulders before cradling your fevered self against him once again.

It wasn’t until a few hours later you woke up feeling like someone had drenched you with a bucket of water, you felt unbearably hot and needed to cool down…. Like now. You sat up, looking around your room in a daze until the door opened, revealing John. He had a towel slung over his arm and a slight smile on his face.

“Cortana said you’d be waking up soon.” He stated as he walked over towards you, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking your hair, “How are you feeling?”

“I–I think… I think the fever broke….” You stated, looking up at him. John nodded, leaning forward to kiss your forehead,

“Good…”

“Don’t kiss me. I don’t want you getting my germs.” You pouted. John chuckled as he kissed both your cheeks and held you in a tight yet comfortable hug.

“You forget I’m a Spartan, love.” John smiled as you nuzzled his chest, “I don’t get sick easily.”

After sitting there for a few moments in John’s comfortable embrace, you became increasingly aware of how dirty you felt. You wanted a shower… or to rinse off and wash your hair at the very LEAST. However, John seemed to have that covered as he carefully picked you up from your bed and carried you into the adjoining bathroom.

“I figured you’d want a bath after the fever broke.” He stated,

“Are you a mind reader now, John?” You asked half-jokingly as you spied the bathtub filled with bubbles and your other bathing essentials close by.

“What can I say? I know what my Dove likes.” John smiled as you gave him a sweet peck on the cheek,

“Thank you…” You said as he gently set you down, turning around and giving you some privacy while you undressed and got in, always the gentleman. Once you’d been in for a bit, John knelt beside the tub and grabbed your shampoo bottle.

“Lean your head back for me, love.” He instructed you quirked an eyebrow in curiosity before realizing what he was doing. You leaned your upper body back enough so that John could begin the process of washing your hair, and boy, did it feel good. Your cheeks warming slightly at the slightly embarrassing sound that escaped you, John gave an amused chuckle as his nimble fingers worked themselves through seemingly every individual strand of hair, the motion nearly putting you to sleep.

~~~~~~~

“Thank you, John,” You said once more as he gently placed you back in your bed. He’d changed the sheets, washed your pillows, and even had a small bowl of soup with a single slice of toast. How did you get so lucky???

John nodded as he covered your legs with your clean sheets, ensuring he included your favorite blanket as you wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable without it. He then took the bowl of soup off the tray and carefully gathered some broth on the spoon before extending it to you. You leaned forward just a bit and, little by little, slowly consumed the bowl of broth. John also made sure he gave you another dose of medication and a healthy amount of water,

“Wait…. This is cold medicine from your world?” You asked as you snuggled up against his side that night. John hummed in reply as he placed one arm around your shoulder, the other draping over your waist.

“And they were perfectly fine with you just taking it?”

“Love, there are certain…. Benefits to being a Spartan, if a Spartan walks in and asks for cold medicine, it’s given to us right away. We’re known for our resilience, so if we need medicine, it’s bad.”

“You sly man….” You teased, poking John’s side. John laughed as he playfully swatted your hands away, bringing them up to his lips and delicately kissing them.

“Only for you, love.”

“God, you're such a romantic. What am I going to do with you?” You asked as John turned on the television, shrugging in reply,

“If I wasn’t sick, I’d kiss that smug grin off your face.”

“Well, if your offering….”

~~~~~~

After that night, you were well on the road to recovery, your sinuses were clear, your throat was no longer sore the following day, and the body aches were gone the day after that. 25th-century medicine… am I right? But more than the medicine, you were grateful for John’s care. Even after the initial week of feeling better, your Spartan still made sure that you were alright…. And yes, once you were better, you thoroughly kissed the smug grin off his face.

I was in the mood to write a caring, mother hen John xD

Sure enough, a few minutes later, he let out a small groan and you snuggled up to his back. “Morning, Baby. I’m so sorry you’re not feeling good.”

He coughed in response.

“Aww, you sound awful.”

He rolled over slowly to look at you. His eyes, though watery, lacked their usual sparkle.

“Y/N,” he replied weakly, not wanting a response, just to address you.

You put a hand lightly to his forehead and grimaced at the heat radiating off of it. “I knew you weren’t feeling good, Baby, but I didn’t know you felt this bad.”

Shawn managed to feeble smile in response.

“I’m going to go get you some water and Tylenol, then I’ll be back.”

He nodded and snuggled back into the covers with a slight sigh. 

You hurried to get the water and medicine so you could go back upstairs to be with him. Pushing the door open quietly, you whispered a simple, “Hey,”

After he finished the water and medicine, Shawn stated, “It’s way to early in flu season for me to be this sick.”

His voice was low and weak and it broke your heart to hear. 

“Shawn, Baby, it’s okay. Everyone gets sick once in a while. It’s a normal human thing. Not that you would know too much about normalcy or anything, but…” you trailed off and Shawn had to crack a smile.

“What sounds good? Breakfast, nap time, what?”

“Nap time and cuddles,” he decided shyly. “If you wanna get sick, that is.”

“Ha! That’s sweet, Baby Boy, but honestly, I’ll be fine.”

Shawn nodded and sneezed… three times, per usual.

You were about to emit another empathetic sigh, but Shawn cuddled right up next to your stomach. 

“I’m sorry, Shawn, Baby,” you kept saying as he fell asleep.

He woke up hours later to use the restroom and you made him some soup. He drank it and pulled you closer to him. 

The two of you laid there, watching Netflix, snuggling for quite a while when you broke the silence by asking if he needed anything else.

Shawn shook his head and sniffled hard, startling you. You moved away for a second before cuddling back up next to his chest. 

“Sorry, Baby,” he mumbled sheepishly. “That was gross.”

“No, your fine, Baby boy,” you smiled.

Shawn’s cheeks flushed even brighter. He always got flustered when you called him that. 

“When have you learned...how to do all this?” You asked him warily. Xander smiled to himself, only briefly, before placing the cloth over your forehead.

“When Leo was little, if he was unwell he didn’t want anyone to take care of him except for me, or Camilla. Not even the healers could persuade him into changing his mind. And so I picked up a few tricks along the way.”

“You’ve always been sweet.” You mused sleepily. Xander turned to the tray of tea that had been waiting for the last few minutes, taking the small capsule that Azama had instructed he give you.

“I aim to please. Although I doubt you’ll be with me when you take this.” He said grimly, taking the saucer and cup and placing it in your hands. You eyed the little pill in his hands, which appeared to be a rather bitter-looking ball of medicine.

“I’m already against it.” You said so bluntly, he couldn’t help chuckling.

“Come now, Little Princess. You’re not going to improve if you don’t take this. It’s an herbal medicine, common in Hoshido. You’re not endangering your life.”

“I’m endangering my taste buds. Look at this thing; it’s dangerous!” You protested, voice hoarse despite yourself. Xander smiled softly, sitting on the side of the bed and nudging it towards you.

“You’d rather be miserable instead of doing as I ask?” He tilted his head, blonde curls falling to the side. You stared at him in disinterest, lips pursed.

“I’d rather die.”

“What if I promised a shortcake from Jakob?” He quirked an eyebrow. You remained unconvinced.

“Not good enough. It’ll have to be way sweeter if it’ll counter this ball of...I don’t even want to think about it.” “I’ve heard you couldn’t handle bitter food well; but it can’t be that bad, can it?” He questioned, but you nodded solemnly.

“Once, Jakob tried to get me to eat this demonic plant...called kale.”

“Kale is very good for you.”

“It tasted so bad it ended up on the floor within a second.” You groaned, remembering the nasty event with distaste. Xander’s lip curled.

“Remind me never to give you kale.”

“And also bitter medicine.”

“Corrin…” He sighed, pressing the ball into your hand, “If you don’t take it, you’ll only get worse. I’d be beside myself if you regressed under my care. So, please, just try to ingest it.”

“What if I can’t handle it?”

“You will.” He assured you, giving your hand a squeeze. “I’ll be rewarding you handsomely if you do. I’ll give you the sweetest thing you could possibly imagine.”

“I can think of a few things, you know.” You smiled weakly, before glaring at the bitter medicine. “And you’re...sure this will do the trick?”

“I guarantee it, my love.” Xander stated. It didn’t take much more convincing than that, before the medicine was popped (reluctantly) into your mouth. Your lips immediately twisted, and hastily you washed down the tea he thankfully provided.

“Bleah!” You choked, mouth hanging open as you coughed. “T-that was- that was-”

“Not as bad as you thought?” He offered unhelpfully, smiling to himself. You glared at him.

“W-worse.”

“Nonsense.” He leaned forward, “You’ve earned yourself a reward, haven’t you? It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Depends on the reward. I was told it’d be something sweet.” You said, unconvinced, though you noticed how close his handsome face had come to yours.

“The sweetest.” He remarked, pressing his lips to yours. You hummed in content, the soft, gentle sensation washing over your whole body. Xander’s expression relaxed as he held you, caressing your cheek as your lips moved in sync.

The quiet pop when you separated was enough to make you blush. Xander looked quite pleased.

“...I can still taste the medicine.” You pouted, looking away in an attempt to hide the bright color of your cheeks. Xander stared at you, before a laugh escaped him. He shook his head. 

“I’ll...have Jakob prepare something for you.”

“Or maybe you could just...g-give me another?” You glanced at him. And what should you find but a brilliant grin on your husband’s lips.

“I don’t think I said anything about seconds, but…” He trailed off, slowly easing onto the bed and capturing you between his arms, “I suppose I could make arrangements.”

“Goddesses don’t get sick they said,” she grumbled to the empty room, “Goddesses aren’t susceptible to colds they said. Well look how wrong you were.”

She blew her nose again, her arm falling away rather dramatically from her face and hitting the bed with a whomp . As she stared at the ceiling, she contemplated the pros and cons of hauling several pillows from Cas’s side of the bed to hers so she could prop herself up. One the one hand it would probably help her nose clear up a bit, but on the other hand… Well there really was no other hand. Just the fact that she really didn't want to move.

After several seconds of self-debate, Poppy shoved a wad of tissues away from her side of the bed and dragged herself into a sitting position. She looked to where most of the pillows are stacked up. It was only a few feet away, but to her aching body, the task seemed impossible.

A door creaked open, and Poppy looked blearily at the tall figure that emerged from the hallway. The door closed behind him and she sniffed pathetically as Casteel came into view, his eyes filled with worry.

Slowly, pulling himself onto the bed, he reached a large hand up and cupped her cheek. At first the contact made her skin ache, but the feeling went away after a moment, and Poppy was able to rest her head in her husband’s warm palm. Casteel’s other hand came up to feel her forehead. He turned the hand over to the other side and then back again. Brushing a sweaty string of hair away from her temple, he pressed a slight kiss to her forehead and leaned back.

“How are you feeling, Princess?” he whispered, as if afraid of hurting her if he talked too loud. She almost snorted, but thought better of it, when she remembered the headache and the gallons of snot that seemed to be shoved into every crevice of her nose.

“Terrible,” she groaned, wincing as the dull throb returned full force. She closed her mouth, not wanting to make it worse than it already was.

“I’m so sorry, Poppy,” he sounded genuinely guilty, despite her being sick having nothing to do with him. She wished she had the energy to tell him it wasn’t his fault, “But don’t worry, I brought the best healer in the capital, she’s waiting right outside—”

“Casteel you do realize that this is probably just a cold right? And that colds aren’t curable?” Poppy opened her eyes, blinking away the blurriness, “I’m just going to have to wait it out.”

“I know it’s most likely a cold,” he started to rub his thumb along her cheekbone, and she leaned into the soothing motion, her eyes closing once again, “But there are certain things Atlantians are susceptible to that look like colds at first and that can become much worse if left untreated.”

Poppy found herself wanting to ask all about the different types of sickness Atlantians could get, purely out of curiosity. She also found herself wanting to protest that she was not an Atlantian, but she had no energy for anything more than a slight nod. A sluggish feeling was settling deep into her bones, and it didn’t help that she hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep the night before due to the fact that she couldn’t breathe through her nose while laying down and breathing through her mouth only hurt her already sore throat.

Casteel caressed her cheek one last time before leaving the room and returning with a tall, motherly looking woman garbed in healer’s robes. Her brown skin was lined with wrinkles and her hair was turning grey at the roots, but her eyes held a look of youth in them, and her smile was one of the kindest Poppy had ever seen. She came in, took one look at the state Poppy was in and immediately set her things down to start cleaning up the multitude of tissues that surrounded her patient.

“Oh you poor thing,” she said, dumping the snotty tissues into a trashcan and setting it beside the bed, “Don’t worry honey, my name is Nola and I’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

Nola rushed back over to her basket of supplies as Casteel came to sit by Poppy. He took hold of her hand and gripped it reassuringly, watching the healer carefully. The woman came back holding her basket in one hand and a thin stick of wood in the other. She held it up to Poppy’s mouth, only smiling kindly when the Queen jerked away.

“Oh, don’t be alarmed dear. I’m not going to stick it down your throat,” Nola beckoned Poppy to come closer to the edge of the bed which Casteel helped with, “It’s just to hold your tongue down when I look inside your mouth.”

Poppy nodded, slowly opening her mouth and trying to ignore the fear that the woman was tricking her into getting something shoved down her throat. Casteel held her hand the entire time however, rubbing his fingers across her skin, and soothing whatever anxiety she had.

The healer used the stick only to press down Poppy’s tongue as she’d said, and peered down her throat. She nodded a bit, and mhmed once or twice as if confirming something she’d thought previously.

“It looks quite red,” Nola commented, “Has it been hurting at all, honey?”

Poppy was unable to answer with her mouth still wide open, but Casteel nodded for her.

“She said that her throat’s been sore for a while. It’s been around longer than the other symptoms along with the runny nose.”

Nola nodded again, and pulled the stick back, letting Poppy close her mouth.

“I see, and have you taken any medicine at all to relieve any of your symptoms?”

She directed the question towards Poppy, but it seemed that Casteel sensed his wife wasn’t in the mood to talk right now, and once again answered for her.

“She’d been sucking on some honey drops to help with the soreness, but we haven’t taken anything for the runny nose or fever.”

Nola started to dig through her basket, tossing things onto the bed. She spent a good five minutes or so pulling out bottle after bottle of tonics and reading each label aloud under her breath. Poppy really hoped that she wasn’t going to have to take all of that medicine.

Eventually, the healear found what she was looking for, and turned triumphantly to Casteel and Poppy, holding up a glass bottle.

“This is a tonic of my own making, designed to effectively treat the symptoms of a common cold,” she paused, turning to Poppy, “Which is most likely what you have dear.”

“Told you,” Poppy murmured to her husband, who let out a chuckle, nodding for Nola to continue.

“It doesn’t taste all that great and it can make you quite drowsy, but with as little sleep as you most likely got last night based on the way you're drooping, that might be a good thing.”

Casteel held out an arm and took the bottle from the healer, glancing at the label.

“Each dose is two tablespoons, and you’ll need to take one within the next few minutes and then again eight hours later. I wouldn’t recommend taking it consistently for more than two or three days, but I doubt your cold will persist that long.”

Casteel nodded, his expression quite serious as he committed all the information to memory. It was one of the things Poppy loved about her husband. The way he would take her and her needs completely seriously, no matter what. She snuggled in closer to him, pressing her face into his shoulder. He wrapped one warm arm around her shoulders and held her there as he asked Nola several questions about the best way to make the medicine taste better, and if it was safe to take it with chocolate or a bit of sugar. Godsdamn her husband was so thoughtful.

Poppy heard the sound of a wrapper crinkle and she lifted her head to see Nola handing Casteel a bar of chocolate.

“The best way to take bad tasting medicine,” she informed, “is to drink lots of water and swallow as much of it as you can at once, preferably all of it. Drink some more water to wash it down and then eat a bit of chocolate to get rid of the taste. At least that’s what I’ve found in my years of healing.”

Poppy grimaced at the thought of having to force down the tonic, and pressed her face into Casteel’s chest. Her husband brought a hand up and weaved his fingers through her hair, giving her some reassuring rubs on the back of her head.

“Thank you, from both my wife and I,” he said, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. Poppy pressed in closer if only to feel those soothing vibrations again. She didn’t even care that she probably looked ridiculous acting like a child in front of the healer. Nola didn’t comment on it though, only gathered her things, thanked Casteel and left.

“All right let’s try this tonic out,” he said as Poppy continued to practically shove herself into his chest, “Two tablespoons she said…”

There was a sound of pouring and Poppy lifted her head, but only to make sure that he wasn’t pouring the tonic all over the bed. He wasn’t. The healer had left them a very tiny metal cup with lines etched into the sides, indicating the measurements. Casteel poured the brown colored liquid to the two tablespoons line and screwed the cap back on the bottle, setting it to the side.

Poppy wrinkled her nose at the strong smell that was emanating from the metal cup, and instinctively shied away when Casteel tried to lift it to her lips.

“Come on Poppy, just drink it,” Cas coaxed as she grimaced, “it won’t kill you.”

“You don’t know that,” she rasped, trying not to show that even just speaking was hurting her.

It didn’t work very well because Casteel immediately furrowed his brow, “Poppy I can tell you’re in pain, just take it.”

“The healer said we needed water first,” she reminded him in a pathetic attempt to delay the inevitable. Thankfully, Casteel was the kind of person to be concerned about following exact directions when it came to things he had no idea what he was talking about, and several minutes later he was back with a cup of cold water.

Poppy reluctantly took the water from him and took a sip that was probably longer than necessary. She swallowed the cool liquid, wincing a bit as it hit her sore throat. Casteel watched on, taking the cup from her when she was done. The smaller metal one was then pressed into her hand.

Steeling herself, Poppy brought the metal cup to her lips and after taking a deep breath, drained the cup in one go. No sooner had she swallowed the disgusting tonic, she started choking, coming dangerously close to throwing it back up. Casteel took the cup and rubbed her back until there was no longer a danger of her vomiting.

“You okay?” he asked, handing her the water.

She took a long sip, the cool liquid helping to cleanse the taste of medicine from her mouth.

“I’m fine,” she croaked, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a ridiculously large bite. She felt better almost instantly. The sweetness chased away whatever lingering flavor was still there, and it was smooth enough that it didn’t bother her throat too much on the way down. She sat there for a while, savoring the taste, then went in for another large bite, glaring when Casteel stopped her.

“Let’s save the rest for the other doses,” he wrestled the chocolate out of Poppy’s hands and set it on the bedside table.

She thought about running and grabbing it, but it honestly wasn’t worth it, and she was still quite tired despite the fact that the tonic already seemed to be working. Her nose was less stuffed and she could finally breathe. Only through one nostril, but she counted that as a win. Her head felt better as well, and she didn’t feel as heavy anymore. Poppy looked around the room, cringing at the mess she’d made during the day.

Casteel seemed to note the mess as well, because barely seconds after she’d thought about it, he was up and cleaning, straightening the bedsheets, picking up tissues that had found their way underneath the bed.

“I talked to Kieran earlier,” his voice was muffled, “And had him move all of our meetings to different dates as well as fill out some of the paperwork you had.”

“Wait, what?” Poppy crawled to the edge of the bed, looking down at Casteel. Well really just his legs that were poking out from under the bed.

“I said,” he grunted, pulling himself back into the open, “That I talked to Kieran earlier and had him—”

“No, I know what you said,” Poppy interrupted, “My question is why. You’re not sick, so it’d be possible for you to attend the meetings, especially the one with the treasurer. We’ve pushed that back long enough. And I’m feeling a lot better, so paperwork is still manageable. I don’t want to pile all of that on Kieran, he works hard enough already.”

Casteel stood up, looking her in the eye. His brow furrowed.

“Okay, first of all, Kieran is perfectly fine. Second, I’m aware that I am not sick, however, I don’t feel good about leaving you here all day by yourself. And lastly, no way in hell am I letting you do any work while you're sick. Not only is it possible you could get someone else sick, but you also are currently running on a grand total of zero hours of sleep. So if we are going to focus on anything, I think it should be that.”

Poppy narrowed her eyes, unwilling to give in. Unfortunately, Casteel looked just as determined. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to lay around in bed all day. In fact, doing just that sounded like absolute heaven right now, but she didn’t want to feel useless. And not only that, but she didn’t want to make somebody else do all the work she was supposed to be doing when she was perfectly capable of doing it.

“Kieran will be fine,” Casteel said, practically reading her mind, “In fact he told me to tell you that if you try and do any of the work yourself he’ll come here and tie you down to the bed and tape your eyes closed.”

Her chest shook with restrained laughter as she tried to keep her mouth from curving upwards. She failed, the laughter bubbling up and releasing into the world.

The stubborn expression slipped away from Casteel’s face, and his mouth opened a bit. He looked like he always did when she laughed or smiled. Awed.

She giggled again at the expression, which quickly turned into a loud yawn that she covered with a hand.

Casteel pulled her into his lap, maneuvering them so that they lay against the headboard. Poppy turned to the side, her cheek pressed to his warm chest.

“Are we sure Kieran will be okay?” she said as a heaviness seeped into her bones once again. She sniffed and was handed a tissue by her husband.

“He’ll be fine. I promise.”

_________________________________________________

“I am not fine, I am not fine at all,” Kieran muttered to himself, staring at the huge pile of paperwork that had been dumped on his desk by Casteel several hours ago.

He’d been working on it since then, and had gotten barely a fifth of it done. Not to mention all the other work he had to do. Why the hell did Poppy have to get sick?

An abrupt noise woke Y/N up, their heart jumping up in their throat when they heard the front door opening from downstairs. Had they really been so stupid as not to lock it? A million thoughts were running through their head, trying to make up a scenario where they wouldn’t die as a result of this unknown person coming into their house. It wouldn’t make sense for one of their friends to come, but why would anyone just barge into their house in particular?

Their worries weren’t set at ease in the slightest as the stairs began creaking outside Y/N’s room. They buried themselves underneath their blankets, trying to suppress sniffles in the fear of being caught by the intruder. The room became dead silent, even the footsteps stopped.

“Y/N?” a soft voice came from the other side of the door, then they heard the noise come closer, “I can see you under the blankets, silly. I just wanted to check up on you since I haven’t heard from you in a couple days. Is that weird? I thought you were like, dead or something, but it looks like you’re just sick.”

The individual hidden beneath blankets emerged, hair messy and dark circles prominent. They looked absolutely miserable and the blue-haired boy who came in nearly melted in a puddle at the sight. He sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching his arms out and pulling Y/N into a hug. They just nuzzled into his chest, sniffling weakly and trying to find the words to say how grateful they were that he came.

“Hey, Ethan. I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your texts, I’ve felt like shit for the past days and I didn’t want you dealing with that.” Y/N pulled away from the hug, taking an unused tissue from beside them and blowing into it before continuing, “I’ve got a cold and I hate everything right now. Could you please, please, please just lay down with me and talk?”

Ethan nodded, taking off his shoes and getting under the covers with Y/N. They instantly buried their faces in his shirt again, one arm slung across his waist with the other being used as an extra pillow. Again, he felt like melting at the sight of his sniffly friend and used the arm that wasn’t trapped beneath him to pull them ever closer. They stayed like this for a while, just enjoying the company of one another after not seeing each other for an incredibly short amount of time.

Minutes turned into hours and the sun was going down. Y/N had been asleep for a while now, but Ethan couldn’t manage to close his eyes. He had never felt more awake and protective like he needed to be on high alert in the event that Y/N needed absolutely anything. Of course, they didn’t, they’d been passed out cold with breathing and sniffling being the only signs of life, but he still just waited.

A dim lamp illuminated the room, bright enough that Ethan could see everything but too soft to hurt his eyes after long periods of time. He could make out every feature of Y/N that wasn’t hidden by the blanket, like the purple sweatshirt from the AbleGamers charity merchandise they had taken from him, the H/C hair that was sticking up in every direction, and the small part of their face that wasn’t hidden by his own shirt. They looked absolutely adorable to him, and he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing than taking care of the sick friend that he had been falling in love with. He felt so at home in their arms and even when they weren’t talking, Y/N was always on his mind in a way that just wasn’t platonic anymore. Ethan loved them and planned on staying here and comforting them in their state of sickness for as long as they needed him to.

He had never been able to put the words in how he felt about them up until recently. It was just furious blushing and praying to the god he didn’t believe in that they couldn’t hear his heart pounding when he hugged them. The love he had for Y/N was painfully obvious to everyone around them, of course except for Y/N themselves. It was horrifically cliche, for them to be oblivious to how he felt until either they finally dated or never did.

Ethan knew he would never work up the courage to say how he felt, so he relished in this moment of absolute bliss with his arms wrapped around the person he loved so dearly. It was so quiet and peaceful until Y/N began to stir, small sniffles leaving their nose while he began humming some soft song while his thumb ran over their cheekbones, “good morning, sleeping beauty.”

“I feel so gross,” Y/N groaned, moving their head so they were face to face with Ethan. They looked nothing short of a mess, bags under their bloodshot eyes but he still thought they were as beautiful as ever.

“How about I make you something to eat and you go shower? If you feel have as bad as you smell, I know you haven’t showered in at least three days,” Ethan’s voice was teasing, and he got up with ease while Y/N struggled to get out from underneath their blankets. Soon enough, he was downstairs fixing up some warm broth-based vegetable soup while Y/N scrubbed the grease in their hair out. It was refreshing, and the hot water streaming down on their skin was helping with the disgusting congestion that was making them feel so ill. For just a second, it was like they weren’t even sick.

That changed when they stepped back out, wrapping their body in an old yellow towel before collapsing into the bed with a grunt. They didn’t care to change into clothes, just staying in the now damp towel until Ethan came in with a bowl of soup in his hands with a water bottle wedged beneath his arm. He smiled at the sight of a clean Y/N, setting down the food in front of them and sitting beside his sick friend.

“Get dressed and c’mere.” Y/N reluctantly pulled on an old shirt and underwear before climbing back into the bed with Ethan. He had one arm out and was gesturing with it, so they moved beside him and a small grin settled across their face when he wrapped his arm securely around them. 

“Thank you for coming here, Ethan, it really means a lot,” they said, settling into a comfortable position with the soup bowl on their lap while remaining happily intertwined with the blue-haired boy. The two of them seemed absolutely at peace, more than Ethan had been while Y/N was just asleep because they were finally together in the way they had always wanted to be. Even if they didn't verbalize it, subtle hints being passed all day that they felt and craved something more.

Ethan just smiled and shook his head, a soft 'anytime' passing his lips before burying his nose in their hair. Y/N continued eating the food he'd prepared for them but noticeably moved closer to him. They stayed like this till Y/N finished, setting the bowl on the bedside table and looking back over at Ethan.

“You want to know a secret, Eth?” they sniffled.

“Mhm.” Ethan got under the covers, pulling Y/N close to his chest again with his chin on the top of their head.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”