#strep

Thank you to @laffy-taffy-creations for helping me come up with the title!

“Darling,” Whumper called, opening the door to Whumpee’s room, “breakfast’s ready.”

The little lump under the blankets didn’t move. Whumper tutted, then spoke again.

“Whumpee, my love,” they said, “if you weren’t awake before, my voice should’ve roused you now. Come along.”

As they spoke, Whumper crossed the room to their darling’s bedside. When Whumpee still didn’t respond, a frown crept into Whumper’s features.

“Whumpee, you know how I feel about being ignored-”

Whumper pulled back the covers and nearly recoiled at what they saw. Whumpee’s eyes were shut in restless sleep, their breathing was labored, and their beautiful face contorted in discomfort as red splotches stained their usually flawless skin. Whumper put a hand to their forehead; the heat radiating there was all the confirmation they needed.

“My dearest, how long have you been like this?” they whispered to themselves.

Whumpee whimpered in their sleep, unconsciously leaning into their captor’s cool touch. Whumper crouched down at their side and cupped their too-warm face.

“Whumpee, please wake up for me,” they whispered.

Slowly, Whumpee’s eyes fluttered open, revealing glassy irises beneath half-closed lids. Whumper breathed a sigh of relief, at least they were able to rouse them.

“You’re burning up, my darling,” they said, “how are you feeling?”

Whumpee whimpered in response, their eyes screwing shut as they nuzzled further into Whumper’s hands.

“Talk to me, what hurts?”

Whumpee looked up at them with the most pitiful expression.

“Everything,” they croaked hoarsely.

There was an unnatural gravel to their voice, and it looked like just speaking was causing them pain.

“I’m afraid I might have to take you to a doctor,” Whumper decided, “are you going to behave for me?”

Whumper didn’t wait for their response; they hoisted Whumpee up into a bridal carry. At this point, Whumpee would usually protest, but their current state had made them miserably docile. Whumper brought them to the car and laid them in the passenger’s seat. They buckled their seatbelt for them and closed their door. Once in the driver’s seat, Whumper sped off to the nearest town. The benefit of living in a large cabin in a private forest was no one would bother them and their darling, but the privacy did have its downsides, especially in situations like this.

…

Whumpee had fallen asleep on the way home. Whumper gently carried them inside and tucked them back into bed. Strep throat, the doctor had said, and a pretty bad case of it, too. Whumper had no idea how Whumpee had gotten it, they had always been so careful to keep them as healthy as possible. Whumper felt utterly ashamed of themselves for letting this happen, and as they opened the bag of medicine Whumpee had been prescribed, they fought the urge to cry. Gently, they shook their shoulder.

“Mmm,” Whumpee groaned.

“I’m sorry my love, but I need you to take some of this.”

Whumper poured some medicine onto a spoon. Whumpee looked down at the thick, sticky liquid, then back up at Whumper pleadingly.

“I know, I know,” Whumper said, “but you have to take it. It’s going to help you feel better. You do want to feel better, don’t you?”

Whumper slipped a hand behind Whumpee’s back and lifted them into a sitting position. Whumpee’s mouth fell open, allowing them to feed them the medicine.

With great difficulty, and quite the grimace, Whumpee swallowed. Whumper quickly offered them a glass of water, which they drained in a matter of seconds. Whumper then lowered them back into bed.

“I’ll let you get your rest,” they said, “you’re going to need it.”

Whumper turned to leave, but a weak hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed their sleeve. Whumper turned, their brows going up in surprise. Whumpee looked just as shocked as them.

“What is it, darling?”

“…S-Stay?”

Whumper melted on the spot. They crawled in bed next to their little Whumpee, holding them close. The germs could go fly a kite. This was the first time Whumpee had actually wanted Whumper to be with them. Maybe Whumper should let them get sick more often…

"No...no, please", A begs in a hoarse whisper.

The poor thing wraps their hand around their terribly sore throat. Swallowing hurts, talking hurts, even breathing hurts. Eating is the last of their worries.

"But you need energy to fight strep", B tries to reason. It breaks their heart to see their partner so sick.

A just shakes their head, tears forming in their eyes. They don't want to eat, even swallowing their own saliva is too much at the moment. And their fever is making them a little emotional.

B pets their head. "I'll bring you a popsicle. And maybe a milkshake. Those should soothe your throat and fill you up enough so I can give you your first round of antibiotics. You'll be better soon, I promise."

How likely is it that I will get sick from hanging out with someone with strep?