Big baby
Hey y’all! I’m back with something new! Super rusty so idk how I feel about but oh well! No negativity allowed, if you don’t like it move on!
Pairing: Bangchan x reader
Warnings: a cold (?), maybe ooc Chan, my shitty writing
Synopsis: Bestie Chan is sick so of course you go help
It’s… quiet.
Too quiet.
Chan’s place is never this silent—there’s usually music playing somewhere, the low hum of his computer, or him absentmindedly singing to himself from another room. But now? Nothing. Just a stillness.
“Chan?” I call softly, but there’s no response.
Frowning, I make my way down the hall toward his bedroom. I slowly push his door open and find him lying in bed, the faint glow from his phone the only light in the room. Even from the doorway, I can hear the congestion in his breathing.
“Hey, Channie.”
He lifts his head, brows knitting in confusion. “Bubbles? What’re you doing here?”
“Well, I heard from Innie that you’d turned down the mountain trip because you weren’t feeling well,” I say softly. “So I figured it must be pretty bad. I came to see how I can help.”
Chan slowly rolls onto his right side as I take a seat on the bed, leaning forward to check his forehead. Definitely a fever.
“What doesn’t feel good?” I ask gently.
“Literally everything,” he groans. “My whole body aches, I can’t get warm, my head’s pounding, I can’t breathe… haven’t been able to eat anything without wanting to throw up, and I haven’t slept properly for days.”
I cup his face softly. “Aww, Channie.
He reaches up, wrapping his hand around my wrist and nuzzling into my palm, eyes fluttering shut like he finally found something comforting.
“How can I help?”
He lets out a sigh, “I’d really like a shower.”
“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” I murmur softly. “Maybe you’ll feel a little better.”
He hesitates for a second before admitting, voice quieter, “I tried to get up and got dizzy. Thought I was gonna pass out.” His grip on my wrist tightens just a little. “Didn’t wanna risk falling.”
“Okay,” I say gently, shifting a little closer to him. “Then that’s the plan. You don’t do anything by yourself—I’ve got you.”
His eyes flick up to mine, a mix of relief and exhaustion written all over his face.
“Action plan,” I continue softly, brushing my thumb along his cheek. “We get you in a warm shower, get some meds in you, fluids… and then you’re resting. No arguments.”
A faint smile tugs at his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”
I slide my hand down from his face to his arm. “C’mon.”
Chan lets out a quiet breath as he pushes himself up, his movements sluggish. The second he’s upright, his balance wavers.
I step in closer, grabbing onto his arms before he can tip forward. We move carefully, step by step, out of the bedroom. His grip on me tightens slightly the further we go, his breathing uneven and heavier than it should be.
“Bath or shower?” I ask, keeping my voice light despite the way my chest tightens.
Chan turns his head toward me, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Depends… if I say bath, are you joining me?”
I chuckle. “Not this time, Channie.”
“Then shower it is.”
By the time we reach the bathroom, he’s leaning more of his weight into me than he probably realizes. I guide him inside, keeping a steady hold on him.
“Sit for a second,” I murmur, gently turning him toward the toilet, before helping him ease down onto it, my hands staying on his arms.
I turn toward the shower, reaching in to start the water, adjusting the temperature until it’s warm but not too hot. Steam slowly begins to fill the room.
I’ve barely taken a step back when I feel it—
his hand catching around my wrist.
I turn, and he’s looking up at me, eyes heavy, unfocused in that sleepy, sick way.
“Stay close…” he mumbles, his grip loose but insistent.
My expression softens instantly.
I step back toward him, standing in between his legs.
“Alright,” I murmur, brushing a hand lightly over his shoulder. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get you out of these.”
Chan hums softly but barely moves, clearly too drained to do much of anything.
He slowly pushes himself up and once he’s steady enough, my hands move to the hem of his sweatshirt, lifting it carefully. He raises his arms, though sluggishly, and I pull the shirt up and over his head. For a second, my hands brush over his shoulders as I drop it to the floor—warm skin, defined muscle. I try not to linger.
And definitely try not to think about it.
My gaze dips before I can stop it, landing on the waistband of his sweats. After a second too long I glance back up to Chans face, “…You gonna help me out here,” I say lightly, “or am I doing all the work?”
Chan’s lips twitch, eyes closed, but there’s a hint of that familiar expression there. “You seem to have it handled.”
I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Unbelievable.”
Hooking my fingers into the waistband, I carefully push the fabric down. He leans heavier into me as he steps out, one leg at a time, his eyes opening to lock with mine. “You could look you know.”
My eyes widen the same time his smirk does, “Christopher Bang!”
He chuckles softly before giving my hip a little squeeze.
Once he’s free of them, I guide him toward the shower, keeping a steady hold on him.
“Sit down.” I say gently, helping him lower himself to the floor, his back towards the stream.
The steam has thickened now, wrapping around us, soft and warm. I reach in to adjust the water again, making sure the temperature’s right before looking back at him.He seems to relax into it, shoulders dropping, eyes half-lidded. “Just sit here for a bit,” I tell him quietly. “Let the steam help, okay?”
He nods faintly, then glances up at me through damp lashes, a lazy, tired sort of smile tugging at his lips. “Bossy,” he murmurs.
“You like it.”
He nods, “I do.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the small smile that slips through. I reach out, brushing my fingers gently through his damp hair, pushing it back from his forehead. “I’ll be right back,” I say softly.
His hand lifts slightly, like he might reach for me again—but it falls back to his lap before he fully commits. “…Don’t take too long,” he mumbles.
I make sure he’s settled on the shower floor, the warm water hitting his back before I step out, grabbing his dirty clothes. I toss them into his laundry hamper before heading to the kitchen. Reaching into the bag I brought, I pull out Gatorade, soup, and the meds. I take one of the bottles out of the pack, putting the rest in the fridge. Grabbing a bowl from the cabinet, I pour in the soup and set everything together before heading back toward Chan’s room. I place everything down on his nightstand—his blue Gatorade, meds, the bowl of soup—making sure it’s all within reach before heading over to his dresser. I pull out a pair of sweatpants, soft and worn, and turn back toward the bathroom.
Pushing the door open, I’m immediately met with warm steam.
“Still alive in here?” I call lightly.
Chan’s quiet chuckle answers me before I fully step in. “Barely.”
I step closer, crouching slightly beside him. His hair is damp now, sticking slightly to his forehead, his skin flushed from the heat—but he already looks a little more relaxed than before.
“Alright,” I say, holding up the sweats. “Let’s get you out and dressed.”
I set the sweats aside for a second and step closer, holding out my hand for him to grab. He places his hand up against the wall and slowly pushes himself up as I gently pull him.
Carefully, I help him step out of the shower, grabbing a towel and draping it around his shoulders. My hands move without thinking—patting his arms dry, then his chest, trying very hard to stay focused on the task and not the hard wall of muscle under my hands.
Chan watches me for a second, a faint, tired smirk pulling at his lips. I glance up at him and pause my movements, my cheeks heating up, “you can dry the rest.”
I quickly turn around and try to focus on something other than my very naked best friend behind me. I grab the sweats and put them under my arm before grabbing the vix.
Taking a deep breath, I turn back around to face Chan. I unscrew the cap to the fix before digging my finger into the vix before bringing them up to his chest and slowly rubbing it in. I spare a quick glance up at him, eyes already on me, before wiping my fingers off on the towel in his hand. You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might charge extra for this level of service.”
He hums, “…Worth it.”
Grabbing the sweats from under my arm, I crouch slightly as I gather the fabric in my hands.
“Hold onto me,” I instruct.
He does, hands settling lightly on my shoulders this time.
“Give me this leg.”
He lifts it slowly, and I guide the fabric up, then the other, careful and steady as I pull them into place.
“Alright,” I say, softer. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
I guide him carefully back into the bedroom, staying close in case he wobbles. By the time we reach his side of the bed, he’s breathing a little steadier, but his posture still slumps from exhaustion.
“Alright,” I murmur, holding out the pills. “Here’s your meds.” He takes them slowly, then I pop open the blue Gatorade for him. A small sip, and I can see his eyes soften.
I reach over and grab the bowl of soup, holding the bowl in my hands. “Try a little,” I say, stepping carefully between his legs.
He lifts the spoon slowly, eyes flicking up at me.
I nod in encouragement, “Just a few spoonfuls.”
He swallows a bite, letting out a soft hum of approval.
After a few minutes of slowly sipping the soup, He leans back against the pillows, soup half-forgotten, eyelids heavy.
Before I could leave to go to the kitchen, one of chans hands shoots out to wrap around my wrist, “Stay?”
Hearing the tone of his voice, I nod, “Okay.”
I step into the bedroom after quickly changing into one of his oversized shirts and a pair of his boxers. Soft fabric, smells faintly like him—comfortable and familiar.
Chan’s already propped himself up slightly, waiting, but the moment he sees me, a faint smile quirks his lips.
Before I can even sit properly, he flops forward onto me, chest against mine, arms draped heavily over me. “…Much better,” he mumbles, voice muffled into my shirt. He presses closer, nuzzling into my chest like it’s the safest spot in the world. “Mmm… don’t move,” he murmurs sleepily.
One of my legs snakes around his back, gently anchoring him to me. He lets out a content sigh, relaxing fully against my warmth. His hands lift one of mine, guiding it to scratch lightly down his broad, muscled back. I don’t mind. Not at all. “…Yeah, someone’s been working out,” I murmur, fingers tracing across his shoulders, smiling at the soft hum he makes.
He shifts slightly, nuzzling closer, and a tiny, lazy smirk plays on his lips. He hums softly, letting out a little content sigh, head pressing further into my chest. My leg stays snug around him, keeping him close, and I hide a grin at just how clingy and ridiculous he’s being—and how warm and comforting it feels. As he drifts deeper into sleep, I feel him twitch slightly, hand inching to hold mine tighter. A soft murmur escapes him in his sleep: “…don’t go…”
I chuckle quietly, pressing him closer. “Not going anywhere, big baby.”
Eventually, his breathing evens out, little hums fading, and I stay there, holding him close, secretly thrilled by the fact that he’s letting me admire his back muscles while completely wrapped up in me










