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these are all with a x waitress!reader in mind just an fyi! the headcanons are all sfw, but I can always do some nsfw ones later if anyone is interested. enjoy babes xx.
line cook!abby is scary. at least, that’s what you’d heard before you even stepped foot in the kitchen of the point bravo bar & grill. majority of the front of house staff are terrified of her, and honestly? you can absolutely see why. coming in at five foot nine and built like a ox, abby’s sarcastic, brutally honest and intimidating without even trying.
but to make matters worse, she’s ridiculously hot.
which seems incredibly unfair considering she spends most of her shifts sweaty, mildly irritated and covered in grease. her shirt sleeves are always rolled up past her broad shoulders, dark ink and muscles on full display. but it’s not even her physical physique or devastatingly pretty face that rendered you speechless that first day.
no, it was how she looked you in the eye after you royally fucked up an order half-way through the dinner rush. how you were fully expecting the hostility that everyone had warned you about, only to receive a soft, “hey, relax. it’s no big deal.” before she quietly remade the order without giving you any grief for it.
line cook!abby has two different modes during a lunch or dinner rush: weirdly calm and terrifyingly competent or one minor inconvenience away from burning the entire restaurant down.
line cook!abby works the grill and flat-top primarily, usually alongside her roommate (and best friend) manny. the two of them argue like an old married couple most of the time, which you find hilarious.
line cook!abby has a personal beef with ticket machine. she had broken at least 5 in the entire time she’s worked there, and marlene tells her that the next one is coming out of her paycheck. but it never actually does.
line cook!abby who says things like, “behind”, “move”, “corner” like a drill sergeant.
line cook!abby’s work uniform consists of an array of oversized band tees or cut off tees, cargo shorts or sweatpants and a bleach stained apron. she wears her hair in a neat braid down the middle of her back, or in a messy bun. but if her hair is pissing her off that day she’ll throw it into a low ponytail, put on a backwards dad hat and call it good enough.
line cook!abby apparently “has a thing for pretty waitresses” according to manny. but the only waitress she’s ever been soft on is you.
line cook!abby is addicted to caffeine. she cannot go a whole shift without pounding at least two energy drinks or an extra large iced coffee.
line cook!abby constantly checks to make sure you’ve eaten during your shift. and if you try to tell her you’re too busy or you forgot? suddenly a basket of fries or a grilled cheese will appear next to you while you’re ringing in an order at the kiosk. and she’ll mumble a stern, “go eat. now.” before disappearing back behind the line like it’s no big deal.
line cook!abby who runs extremely hot. if she’s not on the line you can usually find her in the walk-in trying to cool herself off and grumbling about how, “marlene needs to fix the damn air conditioner already.”
line cook!abby is always in control of the aux in the kitchen when she’s working and is not afraid to smack anyone who tries to change the music. you and manny can usually tell what kind of mood she’s in by what genre of music she’s playing. so if creed, matchbox twenty or theory of a deadman is blaring when you clock in, you already know she’s been having a rough afternoon.
line cook!abby wears her irritation and annoyance plainly on her face. she’s snarky and short with almost everyone, but the minute you ask for something? she visibly softens, and does whatever you asked for without question.
“abs, can I get another basket of fries, please?” and with a soft flutter of your lashes or a warm smile, she’s folding immediately—dumping a fresh batch of fries into a basket and sliding them into the expo window without uttering a single complaint.
“christ, you are so fucking whipped, cariño.”
line cook!abby keeps a bandana in her back pocket or a clean towel draped over her shoulder to be able to wipe the sweat from her face throughout her shift. the one time she didn’t seem to have one and had to use the hem of her t-shirt, you nearly dropped an entire tray of food.
line cook!abby has the biggest praise kink. you tell her something she made was delicious? instantly bashful, ears turning pink as she ducks her head and tries to pretend you didn’t just turn her insides to mush. and you’re absolutely tucking that information away for later.
line cook!abby gets weirdly possessive over kitchen tools. she once threatened manny that she’d scrub their toilet with his toothbrush if he ever touched her knives again.
line cook!abby absolutely cannot flirt like a normal person. so she shows her affection in subtle ways like: not complaining or giving you shit when you mess up an order, carrying the ice bucket up to the bar for you because it’s “painful to watch you struggle”, staying late to help you roll silverware after she finishes her own closing duties, playing paramore’s entire discography during a shift that you’re both working together just because she heard you tell leah that they’re one of your favorite bands.
line cook!abby always walks you to your car if the two of you are scheduled to close together. even if she finishes her closing duties faster than you.
line cook!abby absolutely despises remakes or substitutions on orders, and she’s not afraid to let someone know just how much it annoys her.
“the menu says no substitutions, can’t people fucking read?”
“abby, they’re literally allergic to onions.”
“sounds like a personal problem.”
line cook!abby always has a toothpick or pen shoved behind her ear, or stuck in between her teeth. she’s also constantly chewing gum—mostly because she knows it annoys the hell out of manny but baby girl has a oral fixation. she just doesn’t want to admit it.
line cook!abby will absolutely complain about having to close, but it’s secretly her favorite shift to work. especially if you’re on the schedule.
line cook!abby takes a lot of pride in her work, even when she’s slammed and is glaring at every new ticket that comes through like they personally insulted her. but even then she never lets a plate go out on the floor looking like a damn mess.
the one exception she ever made was the time your ex came in and made it their personal mission to make your night a living hell. so when she found you crying in the walk-in not long after, she ‘accidentally’ let that burger burn to a crisp before sending it out with a satisfied smirk.
line cook!abby who always seems to smell like a combination of fresh citrus, old spice and smoke from the grill, no matter how often she washes her clothes.
line cook!abby is constantly burning her hands on something. half the time she doesn’t really react anymore besides cursing under her breath or mumbling a barely audible, “yeah that was fucking dumb, abigail.” to herself.
but if you are in the back when it happens? you’ll insist on helping her bandage it until she finally relents with the most adorable scowl.
line cook!abby is terrible at hiding her jealousy. while she doesn’t cause a scene, or become overly possessive—if she sees a customer flirting with you, she absolutely makes it everyone else’s problem.
she’s slamming pans harder than necessary, muttering constant curses under her breath at the grill, shouting for “someone to run this fucking food already!” the second it appears in the expo window. lev finds it a little too hilarious and is always roasting her when he’s bringing clean dishes up from the pit.
line cook!abby is extremely sentimental. you wrote her a little thank you note on the back of a discarded receipt once before you two started dating and she still has it taped to the inside of her locker.
line cook!abby isn’t big on pda, but when she realizes how much her touch seems to affect you, she makes any and every excuse to get her hands on you when you’re working together. whether it’s a hand against the small of your back as she passes behind you in the kitchen, curling a finger into the loop of your jeans to pull you out of the way when another staff member is dashing around the corner, sneaking up behind you to rest her chin on your shoulder when you’re ringing an order in.
she thinks she’s being subtle most of the time, but abby is about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.
summary: When you receive a strange address from Sevika, you don't know what to think. The extent of your relationship had always just been sex and work, but what if it was more?
˚ ✦ . . ˚ . . ✦ ˚ . ★⋆.
. ˚ * ✦ . . ✦ ˚ ˚
“That’s my good girl,” Sevika mumbles as she slides her pants back on. She gives your ass one last smack, then turns towards the exit.
“Same time next week?”
You move to answer, but Sevika is out the door and halfway down the
hallway before you get the chance. This had been the routine for years. Sevika would show up at your door, she would rail you into the mattress, then she would leave. There was no staying the night, no sweet words of affirmation, no aftercare.
That’s just how it was, though.
The two of you could be considered friends according to some, but truly, you were just someone who Sevika had chosen to allow into her space, even if it was just for hookups. At work, Silco often assigned you and Sevika to the same missions, so you spent a significant amount of time with the older woman.
That was the extent of your relationship with Sevika - sex and work.
Or, that’s what you thought until a few weeks later.
You were at work, carrying out your usual duties - filing payments, receiving shipments, that kind of thing. That is, until your assistant entered your office.
“Sevika asked me to give this to you,” the woman stated plainly, holding out a small envelope in her right hand. “Said something about needing you for something, but didn’t say what.”
You chuckle a bit, accepting the letter. “Certainly sounds like her. I’ll be leaving for the day soon anyways. Thanks, Celia”
She nods and leaves the room, not lingering for longer than needed.
You sit down at your desk, carefully opening the letter in your hands. Inside, there’s a single scrap of paper, and on it, there's an address. The wording is undoubtedly Sevika’s handwriting, but you don’t recognize the street name.
“Hey, Celia,” you call out. “Do you have a map of Zaun handy?”
Your assistant returns to the room a minute later, holding a map in her hand. “Here you go, Miss.”
“Thank you,” you reply, unfolding the map on your desk. As Celia turns to leave again, you stop her. “Wait, do you know if Silco has added a new address to our rotation?”
“I don’t think so,” she replies after a moment of thinking. “I feel like you would have been notified if he did.”
“You’re right,” you admit. “Thank you, Celia. I’ll be headed out now.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
You find yourself in the oldest part of Zaun, staring up at a tall apartment building. According to the address in your hands, you’re headed to the fourth floor.
After a second of hesitation, you pull open the door to the landing and step inside.
The interior of the building is surprisingly modern given the state of the outside walls, and to your surprise, there’s even an elevator. You step forward and press the elevator’s button.
There’s a ding, and the doors slide open. When you enter the elevator, you press the button for level four.
When the elevator comes to a stop, the doors open to a dimly lit hallway. Strangely enough, there’s only one entry in the entire hallway. With nowhere else to go, you come to a stop in front of the slightly ajar door, nervous for what may be inside.
Finally, you push forward and find yourself in a nearly empty apartment.
Looking around, there’s almost no sign that the apartment has ever been lived in. The walls are bare, the kitchen is basically empty, and there’s not a single piece of decoration anywhere your eyes can see. That is, until you see Sevika’s jacket lazily strewn over the back of the couch.
It all makes sense now. This is Sevika’s apartment, her home.
In all the times you and Sevika had seen each other after work, the two of you were either at a bar or your house. She had never once allowed you - or anyone else for that matter - to see where she spent her time outside of her job.
The apartment was eerily silent, almost like no one was home. For a few seconds, you debated on just turning around and leaving, but something in your gut told you to stay. Then, you heard it.
Quiet, almost inaudible sniffles coming from somewhere down the hall.
You take a few steps forward, and you easily find the source of the sounds. In the hallway, there’s a single door straight ahead. It’s in the same state as the front door was, slightly cracked open.
When you push open the door, you’re met with a strange sight. Sevika, the most widely feared woman in the undercity, was sitting on the edge of her bed, crying softly.
She doesn’t even look up when you enter, instead choosing to stare at the floor in front of her. “Close the door, doll.”
You follow her order silently, and you step further into the room. You come to a stop right next to her, and you sit down on the bed about a foot away from her body.
“You needed me?” You glance over at Sevika as you speak, and you catch a glimpse of her mechanical arm. It appears to be damaged, and the more you look at Sevika’s body, the more worried you get.
From head to toe, Sevika is covered in a dark red liquid, her clothes stained by the mystery liquid.
“I…” Sevika’s voice is uncharacteristically small and hesitant. “There’s no one else I could trust,” she finally admits.
You nod in understanding, realizing the nature of your visit. Sevika needed comfort.
“May I?” Your hands rest on Sevika’s mechanical arm, your intention clear.
She hesitates, then nods.
You work quickly, unlatching her mangled arm from her body. Finally, once you have detached the hunk of metal, you set it down on her bedside table.
“Go take a shower,” you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You stink, hun.”
Sevika lets out a low chuckle, wiping her face. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
After a moment, she stands and walks over to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. You wait for the lock to click, but it never does.
This side of Sevika is something you’ve never seen before. Actually, now that you think about it, it's probably something that no one has ever seen before.
As far as you know, you’re the only one that Sevika allows to touch her arm, let alone remove it for her. The Sevika you know methodically locked doors behind her, forever paranoid. The fact that you’re in her apartment at all is surprising enough.
You sit back down on her bed, wondering what you could do to help her. Then, you get an idea.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
When Sevika steps out of the bathroom, she doesn’t know what to expect.
She half thinks she’ll find you still sitting on her bed, waiting for her, but you aren’t. In fact, you’re nowhere to be found in the entire apartment.
You left.
Sevika doesn’t know what she thought you would do. I mean, it's not your responsibility. She isn’t your responsibility.
This whole thing was stupid, she should have never-
Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door swinging open. She snaps her head around, and there you are, holding a large brown bag.
You freeze, the door half open behind you. “Hi?”
Sevika hesitates before she speaks. “I thought you left.”
“Oh, I was just picking up some food,” you reply with a nervous laugh. “I wanted to get back by the time your shower was over, but it took longer than I thought.”
“I see,” Sevika says slowly. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”
“I don’t mind, honestly. I mean, I was going to cook something but you don’t have any food in your kitchen.”
“Yeah, I usually just… I’m not a very good cook, that’s all.” Sevika’s voice has a hint of insecurity in it, something you don’t miss.
“That’s ok,” you reply quietly. “Come on, the food’s getting cold.”
You set the bag down on Sevika’s small kitchen table, and you sit down. Sevika makes her way over and sits down right next to you.
As she sits, you pull the assortment of food out of the bag.
Earlier, you had looked at your map of the area, and you had noticed a name you recognized. Sevika’s favorite restaurant, a hole-in-the-wall Indian joint she frequented.
You had stepped up to order, unsure of what Sevika’s usual order was.
“Hey, this might be a weird question,” you’d started. “But do you remember what Sevika usually gets here?”
The old man behind the counter just smiled and nodded before he retreated into the kitchen. Maybe ten minutes later, he reemerged carrying the large bag of food that was now on Sevika’s table.
“I didn’t know what you’d want, so this is what the man behind the counter gave me,” you tell Sevika with a laugh. “I hope you like it.”
“Yeah, I order there enough for him to know what I get,” she responds with a smirk. Her tone softens. “Thank you,” she adds.
“It’s no problem,” you reply honestly. “I don’t mind.”
“Still, I’m sure there’s other things you could be doing.”
“Like what? We’re the same, hun. I don’t have any friends or family either.” You pause. “That is, except for…”
Your eyes meet hers, the weight of what you left unsaid settling over the room.
Finally, Sevika nods, her eyes full of understanding and something else - trust.
The two of you eat in silence, not speaking a word.
After a few minutes, the two of you finish eating, and you look around, trying to find something to talk about.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Your voice practically cuts through the tension in the air, and Sevika just stares at you.
“A… movie?”
“Yeah, I figured it might help you relax,” you say nervously. “If you don’t want to we can just-”
“No, I’d like that,” Sevika interrupts.
You nod, and you stand up from your chair and lead the way to the living room. “You can pick what we watch,” you state simply.
While Sevika chooses the movie, you return to her room and pick up her arm. You rummage through her side table, grabbing a couple of the tools you need, and then you return to the living room.
You sit down on the floor next to Sevika’s legs, and you place her arm on the coffee table in front of you.
“What are you doing with my arm?”
You glance up at her. “The damage is minimal from what I can tell, so I was going to fix it for you. Is that… ok?”
Sevika stares at you in silence for a few moments, then she nods. “Yeah, yeah, that’s ok, doll. Thank you.”
As you tinker with your project, you speak quietly. “What movie are you going to pick?”
“I don’t know, something scary probably,” she replies with a smirk.
You glare at her, but don’t say anything to stop her, so Sevika picks some random thriller for the two of you to watch.
As you work, the random jump scares make you jump or yelp, and every time, Sevika chuckles slightly. “You’re such a scaredy-cat,” she says, no malice in her voice.
“Oh, shut up,” you reply with a smile. “It’s not my fault that you picked the scariest movie you could find.”
“I knew you would love it,” Sevika replies, resting her large hand on the top of your head.
You yawn, setting down your tools. “I’m tired,” you mumble.
After a second of hesitation, Sevika pats the couch next to her. “Come sit up here, doll,” she says quietly.
“Yeah, okay,” you reply. You slowly climb onto the couch, settling in next to her body.
Sevika wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you closer to her side. At first, you stiffen a bit, but after a few seconds, you relax into her hold and allow your head to rest against her shoulder.
The movie continues playing, but neither of you are paying attention to it anymore, instead choosing to enjoy each other’s company.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
You open your eyes to an unfamiliar sight. The wall in front of you is bare and foreign, and the bed you’re currently laying in is definitely not yours.
Strangest of all, the strong arm wrapped around your waist is definitely not yours.
After you’ve fully woken up, you remember the events of last night. Dinner, a movie, falling asleep against Sevika’s shoulder.
The only thing you don’t remember, however, is how you made it into Sevika’s bed.
You try to wriggle your way out of her grasp, but it’s no use. If anything, her arm just tightens around you, and you feel her mumble something into the back of your neck.
“What was that, hun?” Your voice is quiet, and you wait for Sevika to respond.
Her arms tighten even more, and she whispers a bit louder, “Go back to sleep, doll.”
You chuckle a bit before admitting defeat and closing your eyes. After all, you were pretty comfortable too.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be a part of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
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She’s sitting on the couch in your shared apartment, eyeing you from across the room. Before she can say anything else, though, Sevika is hit with another bout of coughing, proving your point.
Trying not to look too smug, you cross the room and stand over her. Once she’s able to sit back up, you gently raise a hand to her forehead, checking her temperature.
“You’re burning up, Vika,” you mumble, turning over your hand to check again.
“I told you, I’m not-”
You cut her off with a wave, glaring at her. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not sick, but you’re sitting on our couch, about to cough up a lung,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Be quiet.”
Sevika meets your eyes with a scowl, but she doesn’t say anything. If she did, she’d probably start coughing again, anyway.
“Hopefully you just have a cold,” you mutter to yourself, moving into the bathroom. When you reemerge, you’re holding a small thermometer between two fingers. “Open up,” you say, reaching for Sevika’s jaw.
She pushes your hand away, stubbornly avoiding your eyes. “I told you, I don’t need all that shit,” she says. “I probably just need some sleep or something.”
Frowning, you stare down at the other woman. “You’re acting like a bratty kid right now, Vika,” you say firmly. “Now open your mouth.”
Finally, something in your tone gets Sevika to open her mouth, and you carefully slip the tip of the thermometer under her tongue. You pause for a few long moments, waiting. When it finally beeps, you pull the thermometer out of her mouth and look at it.
“101.8,” you say. “I told you.”
“That’s barely even a fever,” Sevika replies. “I don’t need whatever pampering you want to give me.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” you snap back. “Because I’m not going to let you act stupid and make yourself worse.”
Rolling her eyes, Sevika mutters something under her breath, staring at the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.
“What was that?”
There’s a moment of silence, then Sevika looks down at the ground. “Nothing,” she mumbles. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you reply, satisfied. There’s a moment of silence, then you speak again, your voice softer. “Go change out of your work clothes, baby. I’ll find you something to eat.”
Sevika sits on the couch, not moving, for a moment, then she stands up with a huff, walking to your shared bedroom. She walks down the hallway slower than usual, and her footsteps seem a bit more unsteady than normal.
In the kitchen, you pull out a can of chicken noodle soup, pouring it into a small saucepan. You let it heat up while Sevika changes, and when she returns from the bedroom, you gesture for her to sit down at the table.
“Here, I made you some soup,” you add, moving over to her seat and placing the bowl in front of her.
“Thanks,” she says roughly. Before she can have any, though, another bout of coughing hits Sevika. You watch as she practically doubles over, holding her chest. It lasts for almost thirty seconds, and once she finally stops, you run a hand over her back.
“Were you coughing before you got home?”
“Yeah,” Sevika replies, massaging her chest. “It’s getting worse, though,” she adds after a minute, obviously reluctant to admit how much it’s hurting her.
“I’m sorry, baby,” you whisper, fully moving behind her chair and massaging her shoulders. “I can go grab some medicine from the store if you think that would help.”
“No, no, I’ll be fine,” Sevika says quietly, leaning back into your hands.
“Are you sure? It’s just a two minute walk down the street,” you reply. “I could be there and back before you know it.”
Sevika shakes her head in response, finally taking a couple of sips of her soup. You watch her, moving your hands from her shoulders to the back of her neck.
Once she’s eaten about half of the soup, Sevika starts coughing again.
With a sigh, you pull back. “How about I go start you a hot shower? Maybe the steam will help?”
You can tell Sevika’s about to refuse, but eventually her shoulders slump, giving you the answer. Walking to the bathroom, you turn on the shower, watching as the steam starts to fill the room.
“Come on, baby,” you call out, opening the door to the bathroom. Sevika’s footsteps echo down the hall, and you step aside to let her in.
“Do you need anything else?”
Sevika shakes her head, already stripping down. You help her remove her arm, clutching it to your chest. “I’ll leave you to it,” you say quietly.
“Thanks, doll,” Sevika mumbles, stepping into the shower.
You stare at her for a minute, watching her inhale the steam. Then, you step out into the hallway, closing the door behind you.
In the bedroom, you gently place Sevika’s arm down on your dresser. You sit down on the bed, staring at the clock.
You have time.
Five minutes later, you’re walking around the aisles of the corner store, trying to find the medicine section.
Finally, you find it, and you pick up a few bottles of cough syrup, reading the ingredients on the back. “So many options,” you mumble under your breath as you reach for the cough drops.
Unable to make a choice, you return home with two different brands of cough syrup and a couple bags of cough drops. When you step inside, you can hear the shower still going.
You walk up to the bathroom door and knock softly. “You ok in there?”
From inside, you hear Sevika grunt in response.
“Do you want me to come in?”
There’s a long pause, then Sevika responds. “Yeah, please,” she says, her voice just loud enough for you to hear over the running water.
You push open the door, a wall of steam hitting you as you move inside. Quickly, you shut the door and sit down on the closed toilet. “Is it helping much?”
“I think so,” Sevika replies. You notice that her voice sounds a bit less gravely than it did before the shower.
“Yeah, you sound a bit better,” you say quietly. “I… I went to the store and got you some stuff for your cough.”
Sevika pauses. “You didn’t have to do that,” she finally says, peeking her head out of the shower.
“Well, it didn’t seem like it was the type of thing that would get better on its own,” you respond, standing up. You lean against the wall by the entrance of the shower, reaching out and touching Sevika’s face. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“You act like I’m dying,” Sevika chuckles, holding her chest. Her eyes dart between you and the shower, and she smirks. “You know, I heard showering together can fix all sorts of things.”
You roll your eyes and laugh. “You’re such a pervert, Vika,” you say, turning and sitting back down.
“You said you wanted me to feel better, right? I always feel amazing with you,” Sevika replies, wiggling her eyebrows at you. “Pretty please?”
“I meant like a massage or something,” you laugh. “Not shower sex.”
“I mean, we can call it a massage if you want.”
“Oh, fuck off,” you respond. “I feel like I’m being manipulated,” you add sarcastically, starting to slowly undress.
Sevika scoffs, watching you with hungry eyes. “I would never,” she says playfully, helping you step into the shower with her.
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
As it turns out, sex isn’t the cure for a common cold. In fact, it made things even worse.
Within a couple of minutes of Sevika stepping out of the shower, her coughing returned with a vengeance. Right now, Sevika sits perched on the edge of the bed, doubled over.
“Can you at least cough it up?”
Sevika shakes her head slightly, choosing not to speak. You frown, turning and leaving the bedroom. The bag of cough medicine sits on the kitchen counter, untouched.
You return to the bedroom, bag in hand, and you pull out the two different bottles of cough syrup you’d bought earlier. After reading the back of the bottles, you look up at the clock.
10:46pm.
Sighing, you put down one of the bottles. “This one says that it should help you fall asleep and not cough tonight,” you say, opening the bottle in your hand. “Will you be able to swallow it?”
After a moment of hesitation, Sevika nods, massaging her throat. Carefully, you pour the syrup into the cap, stopping a bit above the recommended dose.
You hand Sevika the tiny cup, and you watch her face as she drinks it. As she winces, you smile slightly. “Nasty, huh?”
Sevika doesn’t seem to care for your joke, but without speaking, there’s only so much she can do. She settles on glaring at you, only making you smile harder.
“Still think you’re not sick?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Sevika grumbles, her voice patchy. She coughs again, but it seems to calm down faster after the medicine. “You know, if you don’t quit it, I’ll just get you sick too.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you reply. “I have a pretty good immune system.”
In response, Sevika rolls her eyes and reaches for the bag of cough drops on the bed.
She gives you another look as she dumps out the bag, revealing four different pouches of various cough drop flavors.
You meet her eyes, shrugging. “What? I didn’t know what flavor you’d want,” you say. “I could’ve gotten you the nasty ones, so be thankful.”
Sevika ignores you, instead tearing open one of the bags and popping a dough drop into her mouth. With a grunt, she flops down on the bed, her back turned to you.
You sigh again, looking at her back. Quickly, you clean up the mess on the bed, placing the bag of cough drops on Sevika’s nightstand.
Then, you slip into bed behind Sevika, rubbing her back slowly. “Does it seem to be helping at least?”
When you’re met with silence, you pull back slightly. You watch as Sevika’s back rises and falls with each breath, stuttering every once in a while. Leaning back in, you press your hand between Sevika’s shoulder blades. “Are you upset with me?”
Another pause.
“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, baby,” you whisper again, leaning over her shoulder. “I… I know you don’t feel good, I was just trying to make you laugh.”
Every so slightly, Sevika leans back into your hand. “Yeah, I know,” she eventually mumbles. Sevika turns over, laying down on her back. “Thank you for going to get the medicine,” she adds after a moment.
“No problem,” you say quietly. “I just hope you’re able to sleep tonight.”
As if to prove your point, Sevika starts coughing, sitting up slightly.
“Uh, maybe you should turn back on your side,” you mumble. “It could help you breathe better.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sevika replies through coughs, turning onto her side.
Behind her, you slowly move closer to her until your chest rests against her back. You bring your arm up, lazily looping around her waist.
Sevika lets out a small breath before settling back into you.
You tighten your arm slightly, pulling her a bit closer to you. “Goodnight, baby,” you whisper, pressing your face into the back of her neck.
“Goodnight, dollface,” Sevika mumbles in response, slowly slumping in your arms. Finally, you feel it when she falls asleep, the way her always-tight muscles fully relax in your grasp.
Smiling to yourself, you kiss the top of Sevika’s head, feeling yourself drift off to sleep.
