#DAYQUIL DOES NOTHING BUT SOOTHE FEVERS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluffyllamas-23 · 6 years

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The Graduation Ceremony (OC’s Mason and Chase)

At the very top of the list of things that Mason wishes would happen, waking up sick was not on it. It’s not so bad at first - his head throbs and his throat is unbelievably raw and scratchy, but it’s still mild enough that he can ignore it.

He’s desperate for it not to get any worse than this. Not just because being sick is the worst, but because it’s three days until Chase graduates from his Master’s program, and there’s absolutely no way Mason is going to miss it.

Come hell or high water, he’ll be there.

Chase’s family isn’t coming, something they didn’t tell him until last week. It’s not that surprising, really, because they’re the worst people Mason had ever met, but it still stings, and he can tell Chase is more disappointed than he’s letting on.

So, Mason has to be there. He’s been downing orange juice and airborne and just about every other immune boosting supplement he can think of in the hopes that he’ll be able to ward whatever this is off.

Chase walks through the door late Thursday night, exhaustion clinging heavily to his bones and muscles. He’s pulled one too many late nights this week, desperately trying to get all of his papers done. He finally finished the last one and is officially done with the masters’ program - something he never thought he would be able to say.

He coughs into his fist, the sound is low, grating and scratchy, and he feels awful enough that the idea of sleeping on the floor almost wins out over walking the extra ten feet to the bedroom.

“Chase?” Mason mumbles sleepily, walking out of the bedroom.

His hair is a mess - matted on one side, sticking up in every possible direction on the other. His cheeks are flushed pink from sleep and the warmth of the blankets, and all he wants to do is go back to bed.

However, the idea of seeing Chase for the first time in nearly a week wins out over his overwhelming desire for bed.

“Hey,” Chase croaks, sending him a weak smile, “I’m finished.”

Mason’s eyes light up, “for good?”

“Uh-huh...turned in my last paper half an hour ago.”

“Ohmigod congratulations, I’m so proud of you,” he grins, crossing the distance between them to pull him into a hug, “oh, I’m so proud of you.”

“It was an awful paper...the worst I’ve ever written,” he groans, dropping his forehead down to rest against Mason’s shoulder.

“Who cares? You’re done, that’s all that matters.”

Chase opens his mouth to say something, but instead twists away from Mason to cough into the crook of his elbow.

Mason grimaces, “that doesn’t sound good...feeling alright?”

Chase shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes as he sniffles, “not really.”

“Oh, honey,” Mason frowns, reaching out to palm his forehead. He inhales sharply at the steady, rolling heat that meets his hand, “yeah, you’re definitely feverish. Go lie down, I’ll be in in a second with some medicine.”

Chase isn’t entirely sure if he’s actually sick or if he feels this aggressively awful because he’s so sleep deprived. Either way, their bed has never been this comfortable in the entire three and a half years that they’ve owned it.

“Hey,” Mason mumbles, walking into their room.

“Mmm,” Chase hums, already more than half-asleep.

“Don’t sleep yet. I have medicine,” he says, putting a hand on Chase’s back. “Do you want to change? I know you’re tired, but I don’t think jeans are that comfortable to sleep in.”

“M’gettin’ up,” he mumbles, but makes no indication that he’s planning on moving.

“You need some help?” Mason asks softly, trying not to laugh at his poor, sick and exhausted boyfriend.

“No...no m’good.”

“You haven’t moved.”

“...Well, fuck.”

Mason laughs lightly and rifles through the drawers. He grabs Chase a pair of sweats and tosses them at him.

“You good to get dressed, or do you need some help?”

“I can do it,” Chase grumbles.

Mason sniffles lightly, scrubbing at his nose with his knuckles. He can feel the congestion beginning to set in and his eyes are throbbing with it.

Chase sits up, wincing at the achiness that had settled itself in his bones. His movements are slow and uncoordinated, like he’s having trouble shaking the fever haze.

It takes him a good five minutes just to change into the sweats and by the time he’s under the blankets, he’s completely sapped of all remaining energy (though, he doesn’t have much to begin with).

Mason feels much worse the next morning, which probably has to do with how frequently Chase’s coughing woke him up throughout the night.

Chase finally falls asleep around seven, after calling out of work, a lot of cough medicine and a lot of tired, half-assed back rubs from Mason.

Despite how absolutely exhausted Mason is, he can’t bring himself to fall back asleep. He’s too stressed - Chase’s graduation party is supposed to be tomorrow after the ceremony, but if Chase is still this sick, Mason isn’t sure how it’s going to work.

Mason’s sister is supposed to come over later to help him start getting everything ready for the party, but he’s tempted to text her not to come over so that he can get some sleep. He waits too long, though, drifting in and out of sleep for the next couple of hours until he hears the front door open and close.

“Mason, if you’re still sleeping, I’m going to kick your ass,” he hears Kelsie call out from their kitchen.

Chase groans into the pillow, and starts to stir, “wha-”

“Shhh,” Mason soothes, putting a hand on his back and rubs Chase’s back when he hears him start to cough, “go back to sleep. It’s just mby sister.”

“Why’s she here?” He croaks, voice completely shredded from all the coughing.

“Your party...which...speaki’gg of, are you goi’gg to be okay by thend? We cand always postponde it for ndext week whend you’re feeli’gg better.”

Mason grimaces at how congested he sounds. It’s fully settled into his sinuses by this point, and his eyes throb with it. Luckily, Chase doesn’t seem to notice - or, at least he doesn’t comment on it. He also doesn’t comment on the four sneezes that punctuated his last statement.

“Don’t cancel the party,” Chase mumbles, “I’ve been waiting for it for too long for you to cancel it.”

“Okay,” Mason says, though he almost wishes Chase wanted it postponed.

The graduation is tomorrow, and while Chase may very well make a full recovery by then (Mason is fully planning on drugging him to the high heavens until his ceremony), Mason knows he definitely will not be better by the ceremony.

“Masoooooonnnnnn!” Kelsie whines, “where are you?”

Mason struggles out of bed when he hears her knocking on their bedroom door.

“Shut up, Kelsie,” he grumbles, shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck, dude. You look like actual hell,” she winces, “I was just about to give you shit for being asleep at noon, but it looks like you could use twelve more hours.”

He sniffles, turning away from her to let out a scratchy, congested sneeze, “cand we just get this over with?”

“Seriously, Mase,” she frowns, pressing a hand to his forehead, “are you alright?”

“I’mb, uh...I kind of feel like shit.”

“I can tell. You look it.”

“Love you too, Kelse,” he grumbles.

“Make Chase bring you home tea and soup or something.”

“He’s sick, too.”

“Oh, fuck. Is he going to be okay for the ceremony?”

“I hope so.”

“Go back to bed, tell him you’re sick.”

“Ndo. Chase cand’t kndow undtil after the party. He’s goi'gg to worry and I dond’t wandt himb to worry…especially ndot whend he’s sick.”

“That’s an awful idea, you know that, right?”

“It’s finde.”

Mason spends the day alternating between checking on Chase and bringing him whatever he needs, and setting up for the party. He’s loaded himself up on so many cold meds that he feels a bit like he’s floating, and he’s definitely just running on autopilot at this point.

By the time he collapses into bed, he’s ready to sleep for a year.

“What time is it?” Chase asks, sounding much more awake and alert than he had earlier.

“Uh...nine, or something...how’re you feeling?”

“A lot better,” he mumbles.

“Y’sound better.”

“I think I needed a day to sleep,” he mumbles, coughing into the blankets.

“Yeah, I think so too,” Mason yawns, “your cough sounds better...I’m surprised it didn’t get worse because of the...um...the-uh...shit, what’s the word?”

“...Asthma?”

“Yeah, that.”

“You okay?”

“Tired,” Mason mumbles.

“Mason,” Chase says, shaking him awake.

It’s almost noon, half an hour before they need to leave for his ceremony. Chase had been hoping to get breakfast with him, but Mason had seemed so tired and worn out last night that he wanted to let him sleep for as long as possible.

“Go ‘way,” he mumbles, voice thick with congestion.

“Oh,” Chase winces, “oh, honey….you sound awful.”

“I’mb finde,” he croaks, “I’mb just...tired. Havend’t wokend up yet.”

“You have a fever,” Chase frowns, hand pressed to Mason’s cheek.

“Ndo...ndo, s’just a litle one...mb’finde.”

“I think...we should skip the ceremony,” Chase says, trying not to let the disappointment seep into his voice.

“Ndo...dond’t...I’mb finde.”

“Mase-”

“Ndo. You’ve worked too hard to ndot go to the cerembody.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he lies, “I didn’t even want to walk.”

“That’s bullshit and you kndow it. You love traditiond...your kids decorated your cap...you’re so excited for this. I’mb ndot goi’gg to mbake you stay hombe with mbe because I have the sndiffles.”

“You sound like shit,” he says flatly.

“I sound worse thand I feel,” he lies.

“I don’t know...if you’re so adamant that I go to the ceremony, how about you just stay here and sleep, and-”

“-dond’t you dare findish that sendtence. There’s ndo way I’mb mbissi’gg this.”

Chase sighs, “Mason, come on. You look miserable.”

“Just drop it. I’ll be finde for a couple of hours.”

“Okay, fine. I’m driving us, though...and loading you up on a shit ton of DayQuil.”

“Finde by mbe,” he murmurs.

The medicine does nothing but make him sound less stuffy. Chase wants to tell him just to stay home because he looks bleary and exhausted and sick, and Chase hates it.

Instead, Chase drives them both to campus, walks him to where the seating area is, kisses his cheek, and then walks to the graduate check in.

Mason manages to find where Sean and Lucy had gotten seats, despite how unsteady he feels, and then pours himself into the chair next to Sean.

“Shit, Mase. Why are you here? You should be in bed, you look awful,” Sean winces.

“Fuck you, too,” Mason croaks, flipping him off weakly.

“He’s right,” Lucy frowns, “Kelsie is going to kill you when she gets here.”

“Good,” he mutters, holding his head in his hands, “I hope she does.”

They lapse into silence - or rather, he lapses into silence, and Sean and Lucy talk amongst themselves. He feels awful, truly horrendous, and he regrets telling Chase that he’s fine enough to be here.

He’s not, he’s really, really not. His entire body throbs with an intensity that nearly brings him to tears, and though he does want to cry, he’s so stuffed up that crying will just make it worse. His head aches, specifically in his sinuses and behind his eyes (which feel so swollen, he just wants to close them).

Exhaustion clings to every limb, and he feels much heavier than he would like.

“Mason, what the fuck,” Kelsie hisses, sliding into the seat next to Lucy, “I know you’re a moron, but I didn’t think that you were this dumb.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, “leave me alone, I feel awful.”

Kelsie sighs, “I know...hey, how about one of us drives you home? Chase will understand.”

“No...m’gonna jus’stick it out. S’fine.”

“Are you-”

“Yes.”

“S’too hot...why’s it s’hot?” Mason slurs, tugging on the collar of his shirt. It’s only an hour into the ceremony, and Mason feels like death warmed over - hot and dizzy and lightheaded all at once.

“Mason?” Sean frowns.

“I don’t...s’hot.”

The entire world is spinning, his vision is coming in flashes now, and he’s too fucking tired to deal with any of this. Everything hurts - quite possibly even more than it did when he got there - and he just wants to go home.

“Mason? Mason, hey, look at me,” Sean says, “oh, fuck, he’s burning.”

Mason slumps against him, half conscious as he mumbles something incoherent, and Sean looks at Lucy and Kelsie in horror.

“He needs a hospital,” Kelsie urges, standing up, “get him to the car, I’ll text Chase.”

Sean and Lucy get him on his feet, and Sean half drags, half carries Mason out of the row.

“Dude, you need to wake up.”

“What’re you talki’gg about?” Mason mumbles weakly, head lolling forward as his knees buckle. Sean catches him before he can hit the ground, and

“He’s not sweating, Sean,” Lucy says quietly, pressing the back of her hand to his cheek, “it’s one hundred and eight degrees out, he should be sweating.”

“Oh, shit. What do we do? I don’t know what to do! He’s dying! My best friend is dying!”

“Oh my god, I forgot you’re the actual worst in emergencies. There’s a hospital like five minutes from here, get him to the fucking car and turn on the AC,” Lucy hisses, nudging him towards the exit. “Mason, I need you to work with us a little bit, you need to walk.”

“Huh?” He asks after a few seconds.

“Can you walk? You need to walk,” Kelsie says, catching up to them as she glances at her phone, “oh shit, Chase is panicking. Uh, he’ll be here in a sec-oh wait.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I told him he should have stayed home,” Chase hisses, running up to them. He gets on Mason’s other side, draping his arm over his shoulders, “Mason, you fucking moron.”

Everything is a blur - Mason isn’t even sure what way is up at this point. He tries to walk, because he thinks that might be what everyone is telling him to do, but his mouth feels like it’s been filled with cotton, and his ears are ringing as black dots cloud his vision. The pounding in his head increases to a heavy throbbing, and he suddenly can’t figure out how to move his legs.

“Mason?” Chase asks anxiously when Mason finally opens his eyes later that night.

He stares up at the ceiling blankly. He feels too tired, too much like he’s been dragged through hell and back to focus on anything else around him.

He manages to turn his head, which takes entirely too much effort and is tiring enough to make him fall back asleep.

When he wakes next, he still feels like he’s been hit by a freight train, but he feels significantly less sluggish. The steady beeping of the heart monitor almost lulls him back to sleep, but Chase is asleep on his arm, which is making his fingers tingle.

“Chase?” Mason croaks. His throat is so dry it hurts, and sends him into a coughing fit that’s intense enough to make tears spring to his eyes.

Chase is awake in an instant, pressing a glass of water into his palm, “drink.”

“Ugh...what...what happe’d?” Mason asks once the fit tapers off and he can finally drink something.

“You got fucking heatstroke because you sat in the hundred and whatever degree heat with a fucking fever you fucking moron, and then you were severely dehydrated because you didn’t drink any fucking water.”

Mason winces, “you sou’d mad.”

“You’re damn right I’m mad,” Chase hisses, “I don’t care about a ceremony nearly as much as I care about you. And how dare you think that I would put something dumb like this over your health and wellbeing? You have the fucking flu and a sinus infection.”

“I’b sorry,” Mason whimpers, choking back a sob.

Chase’s face softens, and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized that he was holding, “no...I’m sorry…I’m sorry, I’m just worried. I know you only went because you knew it was important to me, and I love you for that, but, honey, I need to know when you’re not feeling well...do you know how scary this whole thing was? Because I don’t think you do.”

“I’b s-sorry-” he pulls the blankets up over his face and lets out a trio of shuddery sneezes.

“Bless you.”

“What ti’be is it?” Mason asks, eyes drooping shut.

“Almost nine.”

Mason’s eyes fly open, and he tries to sit up, “what?! Your party!”

“Mason, relax,” Chase says, putting his hands on his shoulders and pushing him back down gently, “sweetheart, you’re in the hospital...Sean and Lucy and Kelsie called everyone. We’re just going to put it off a couple of weeks.”

“But...you’ve bee’d looki’gg forward to it,” he sniffles, eyes filling with tears.

“It’s still happening, just not tonight, and that’s okay. I’m honestly kind of tired...and still don’t feel great.”

“Oh...are you alright?”

Chase laughs, but he sounds more exasperated than anything else, “let me just...get something straight here.”

“U’b...okay.”

“You had a one hundred and five degree fever - you still have a fever, by the way, one hundred and two point seven. You passed out, you had heat stroke...you have the flu and a sinus infection, you’re in the hospital, you’re still dehydrated, and you’re asking me if I’m alright? Mase, I’m fine, you’re not allowed to worry about me at all. You’re not allowed to ask me how I’m feeling, because the answer is going to be the same - I’m fine and you’re not.”

“It was just a questio’d, shit, dude.”

Chase chuckles, “just go to sleep.”

“I wa’dt to go ho’be.”

“I know. They want to keep you overnight for observation.”

“Okay...hey, Chase?”

“Yeah?”

“I’b really sorry...I just...your fa’bily is so awful...I ‘dew that this was i’bportad’t to you a’d I wa’dted to ‘bake it special.”

“I know...I know you did, and I really do appreciate it. Just get some sleep.”

Mason nods, “‘kay...love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#OCs #Mason and Chase #in which mason has a Bad Time (TM)#flu #sinus infection #heat stroke #It's two am and i'm tired so idk how this is lmao #I actually like this???#i haven't been able to say that in a really long time omg

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builder051 · 6 years

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So excited that requests are open again! If you're willing, I'd love to see a fic where Colby pukes in his sleep and Jason on the inside frEAKS OUT, but Colby is so feverish and apologetic that he pushed through to care for him? If you want to make any tweaks to the prompt, that's fine! I know fluff isn't super up your alley. I love your writing so much

Here you go!

_________________

They’re on turn three of the winter sickness merry-go-round. After Mike’s cold-turned-ear infection and Jason’s struggle to break his fever long enough to take his final exams, it’s decidedly Colby’s turn to fight the bug. He hadn’t complained much, just blown his nose like a foghorn and left a trail of tissues from the couch to the bedroom.

Now he’s sleeping peacefully, pressed up against Jason’s arm and breathing through his congestion. Feverish heat radiates from his skin, and with every rattling breath, Jason hopes he’s now immune to whatever strain of germs his boyfriend’s carrying.

The alarm clock on the bedside table shows it’s just after one in the morning. Jason doesn’t know why he’s awake. Insomnia doesn’t normally tear him away from his rest, but tonight, he just isn’t tired. It’s as if his mind’s refusing to relax, just waiting for something to happen.

He rolls from his back to his side so he’s face-to-face with Colby. He looks young and vulnerable in his sleep. His normally tanned face seems extra pale in the bluish glow from the alarm clock, and his cheeks look porcelain smooth. Jason brushes a few strands of Colby’s blonde hair off his forehead and sighs quietly. With a temperature like that, Jason expects to spend the first few days of winter break doling out Dayquil.

Colby stirs slightly, and Jason retracts his hand, hoping he’s not disturbing. “Alright,” Jason breathes. Colby gives a small huffing exhale, swallows, and curls more tightly in on himself. His eyelids flutter as he slides his knees further up the mattress between his torso and Jason’s, completing the fetal position.

“You doing ok?” Jason whispers, unsure whether the movement correlates to wakefulness.

“Hmph.” Colby makes a sound of sleepy non-awareness. He swallows again.

“Ok.” Jason slips his arm over Colby’s knees and tries once more to close his eyes. If he breathes slowly and deeply enough, he can imagine drowsiness beginning to set in.

It might be a minute or an hour that passes, Jason isn’t sure. All he’s aware of is the nighttime silence being broken the most horrendous sound he can imagine. Colby’s throat contracts wetly. His shoulders hunch, and he looses a gurgling retch.

“Fuck,” Jason mutters, lurching to awareness and struggling to scoot back as vomit pools on the mattress.

Colby seems awake now, holding a hand over his mouth that ends up doing nothing to contain another wave of sickness. Little spurts of liquid glint as they escape between his fingers and splash disgustingly against what’s already spread across the sheets.

Jason squeezes his eyes shut for a second, half to avoid the sight and half to test whether he’s really awake and witnessing this. A tendril of panic is beginning to unfold in his chest, rocketing his heartbeat up to a full sprint. God, the sound. And the smell. And it’s everywhere.

“Oh god,” Colby chokes. “Sorry.” He belches into his hand. “I’m so sorry.” He looks like he’s trying to swallow again.

Jason feels his own stomach clench. Prickles of sweat send electric sparks into his elbows and knees. “Um. Ok,” he attempts to soothe. “D’you wanna…Let’s go to the bathroom.”

It’s really too late to do anything, because Colby’s already retching again. But he’s going to damn well try. “Hey, come’ere.” Jason reaches for Colby’s upper arm, leaning across the spreading mess of sick in the middle of the bed. Colby feels immeasurably warm, even through the layer of long-sleeved t-shirt covering his upper body.

“I’m…so sorry,” Colby breathes, pausing to hiccup. “I’m sorry.” He’s shaking so hard he can barely get his long legs out of the tangle of sheets and blankets.

“It’s, uh,” Jason sighs. “It’s ok. Come on.” He practically drags Colby out of the bedroom and into the bathroom a few steps down the hall. He gently pushes Colby onto his knees in front of the toilet.

“Fuck,” Colby coughs into the bowl. “God, I’m so sorry.”

Jason rubs his back. “It’s ok. You couldn’t help it.” A burst of sympathetic love for Colby rises in him, and he leans in to give him a gentle hug. But as he does so, Jason notices a stain of vomit on his own sleeve, and he can’t get out of his shirt fast enough.

It reminds him that there’s more laundry to be done, and Jason cringes. “Stay here for a minute,” Jason tells Colby. “I’m gonna take care of the bed.”

“No, I’ll get it,” Colby rasps, spitting out strings of mucous. “I know you don’t—” A dry heave cuts him off.

Jason bites his lip. He’ll be lucky to make it through the task without giving in to a sympathy retch. But Colby looks exhausted just sitting there, coughing and shivering.

“No,” Jason takes a towel off the rack and drapes it over Colby’s quivering shoulders. “I got it.” He pauses in the doorway. “Just…worry about yourself for a minute.”

“You sure?” Colby posits shakily.

Jason makes a last attempt to breathe down his elevated heart rate. He’s steadfast, he decides. He can handle this. “Yeah.”

#ocs #oc fic #my ocs #mike & co #jason deangeles #colby carson #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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Heyy! :) I just have seen that your requests currently are open, so i thought, why not give it a try and just ask. <3 The idea: Spence and Reader both got their covid shots, but as soon as Y/N gets the second dose, she develops pretty severe flu-like side effects. Of course, both she and Spencer knew something like that could happen, but since Spence had shown no side effects, Reader thought she would be fine as well. Which then turns out not to be the case, so he has to take care of her.

thank you!!!! hurt/comfort spencer is such a babe! he does what ever he can for the people he loves no matter the cost!

cw: general covid and flu symptoms mentioned in detail, snide comments about the government and health care system,

Spencer had the chance to get the covid vaccine almost 3 months before Y/N, his girlfriend. Perks of having a government job, they cared more about their police officers than the rest of the country...

It only made her a little mad. Seeing as she worked with the public, in a much better and more rewarding way, and yet she still wasn’t allowed to get it.

She was there for Spencer to get both doses without issue, only a sore arm and a headache for the first night, nothing really serious, even after the second shot. He blew through it like it was nothing, going back to work after it was in his system and leaving her at home. Wishing she could be back in the office with her patients and the real world again.

By the time she was allowed to get it, she wasn’t worried that it was going to give her any weird side effects. She and Spencer were pretty similar all around, she was lactose intolerant and anxious too so surely that meant their bodies were wired similarly. Opting to send Spencer to work that morning, saying she’d be fine to care of herself and anything that came up.

She was wrong. So, so wrong.

He came back after an 11-hour shift, opening the door to find her sweating and shaking on the couch as she tried to sleep. A pile of tissues on the coffee table, a few bottles of DayQuil, the end credits to greys anatomy paused by Netflix on the TV. “are you still watching?” Staring at the sleeping woman on the couch for god only knows how long.

Spencer put all his stuff down quietly, kicking off his shoes and rushing into the bathroom. He ran a washcloth under the water, getting it soaked and cold before wringing it out, folding it like a hotdog and returning to the love of his life.

“Hey, shhh,” he whispered as she started to wake, startled by the freezing cold water droplet that slipped past her nose as he laid the cloth on her forehead.

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt this bad? I would have come home early?”

“Spence, I was going to call you at 1 if I still didn’t feel good but I couldn’t get to the phone,” she whispers, pathetic and tired as ever.

He helps her sit up more, situating her on the couch comfortably while he runs around like a chicken with his head cut off as he tried to take care of her. Making soup, getting a cold glass of water, her favourite pillow, resuming greys anatomy, the whole nine yards.

“Spencer?”

He rushes to her side so intensely that his mismatched sock makes just the wrong amount of friction with the hardwood floor and sends him to the ground. Hard, he lands on his side with an “oof,” that makes Y/N gasp and then laugh lightly in shock.

Covering her mouth, she coughs through the sudden burst of laughter, “Spencer, calm down, I don’t actually have covid, I’m fine!”

“Good,” he groans, “that fuckin’ hurt,” he manages to make himself laugh too as she’s reaching out a hand to pull him up off the floor.

“If you really want to help, cuddle me and call in sick for tomorrow?” She suggests with a smile that lets him know she’s really fine, better than fine. She’s perfect.

They settle into the bedroom then, opting to watch something on her laptop so could cuddle better. She ended up on his chest, laying completely flat, both in just their underwear, as he ran his fingers over her skin softly. Soothing her overheated body as she tried to fight the fever off, the feeling of his fingers making her shiver slightly as she relaxed.

He pressed the occasional kiss to the top of her head, brushing the sweaty hair behind her ear as she breathed. It was deep and shaky, she complained about feeling winded, the effects of the vaccine really kicking her ass but she still looked so damn beautiful like this.

She fell asleep there in his arms not long after, leaving him to stare down at her lovely face for as long as he wanted to. Memorizing the moment in his mind, forever wanting to remember how blessed he was to just be there, at that moment alone with her, completely and utterly in love.

In sickness, and in health.

She just needed a ring.

#man i wish i had him when i had covid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #ask

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