#ilovesickfics

[kiankiwi]

Okay, here’s an idea: we all know how men tend to turn into total babies when they’re sick, right? Do you think you could write something where E slips into babyspace when he gets sick? Thanks!

Elvis always made sure you knew he didn't feel good. He was achey, sniffling, just all around he didn't feel well and he made sure everyone knew how uncomfortable he was. He also knew he could get away with being a brat when he was sick because all you wanted was to make him feel better. You weren't surprised the day after he came home feeling under the weather but still big that he had slipped into a much younger headspace during the night, going almost nonverbal except for some whining and achey groaning.

The morning after he comes home complaining of feeling unwell, you wake up to him crying in his crib. You run to his nursery and find him sitting up, crying and making grabby hands at you, coughing a mucus filled cough. "Hi sweet boy, c'mere. You sound so icky. I wonder how the Colonel didn't notice you sounded so yucky the other day." Elvis just sniffled and nestled his nose into your neck. He didn't care that he could barely breathe. "Hey, you wanna rock with mama?" Elvis looked over at the oversized rocking chair and then back at you. He didn't care what he did as long as he was doing it with you.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea, let's have a snuggle." You lay Elvis across your lap as you sit back in the rocking chair and check if he has a fever. Nope no fever but he definitely sounds congested. "Baby, can you show mama what hurts if you can't tell her?" Elvis takes a minute to point to his temple and his chest. You nod. "What about here, you don't feel icky here, love?" You poke him in the belly, praying he doesn't have a stomach bug. He shakes his head. Good, it should be just the common cold. You nod, rocking him for a few more minutes, trying to think of what you could do to make him feel better.

Eventually you two have to get up and instead of going downstairs to get him a bottle, first you decide to sit in the bathroom and turn the shower on to steam up the bathroom and hopefully loosen up the mucus in his chest and head.

You turn the shower on the hottest setting and sit with Elvis on the floor as the small room slowly steams up. Elvis looks at you a little confused. "This'll make your chest feel better bubba. I promise." Eventually he starts coughing and he sounds horrible. His throat probably hurts so bad, you think as he curls into himself as he coughs and you rub his back and grab some toilet paper for him to spit into. "Get it up bub, good boy. Doing such a good job."

After coughing for a bit, Elvis grabs at his sore throat, whining and leans into you, silently asking for a hug. "Oh, bubby. Here let's go get you some milk okay? I bet some warm milk would help your throat." He nods, immediately reaching his arms up to you, begging to be picked up as soon as you stand up off the bedroom floor. "Oh, c'mere big boy." Hearing big boy, Elvis whines again, stuffing his face into your shoulder. He's tiny and he wants you to know it.

Ten minutes later, you're making yourself some toast and coffee while Elvis is gratefully sipping on his warm milk. And for some reason while in babyspace as he drinks his milk in his highchair he always likes to raise the arm that's not holding his bottle and put it on his head, bent at the elbow. And he just silently drinks like that. It's something you only see when he's really relaxed and content and usually only happens when he's watching TV if he's big. You sit with E at the table, holding your coffee cup out. "Cheers, sickie." Elvis pops the nipple of the bottle out of his mouth, breathing hard since he can't breathe out of his nose and taps his bottle against your cup. You smile at how cute he is. "Hey, I love you, little. I'm so glad you're my bubby." Elvis just sucks down the rest of his milk and reaches his hand out to you; Both big and little him love physical touch.

When Elvis is done with the bottle, he bangs it on the tray of the highchair, his way of saying he wants more. At least that's normal, you think as you get up to put your plate in the sink and grab his cup, putting it in the sink as well. "No more bubba, I don't want your tummy getting upset okay? You already chugged that thing." He groans at you, slamming his open palms on his highchair tray.

"Hey, none of that, how about we snuggle while we watch some... Carebears?" Elvis gasped hearing the name of his favorite show. You smiled and offered your hands outstretched to him. "Yeah? Let's rest and watch a show huh?" You pick Elvis up and carry him to the couch, setting him on the end of the couch and he stretches out a bit while you grab him a box of tissues.

Just then you hear an adorable sneeze and Elvis squeaks, caught off guard. "Oh goodness, bless you bunny! Did that scare you?" Elvis looks to you, eyes wide.

You give Elvis the tissue box and sit next to him on the couch, starting his show. Elvis blows his nose and just drops the tissue to the carpet. "Elvis! No baby, that's icky. Here, I'll toss it okay." You stand again, walking to the kitchen to throw away the used tissue and get him a plastic bag to toss away any others.

When you get back, Elvis is entranced in his show and laying down a bit more. You cuddle up next to him and let him lay himself on your chest. Your 100% with being nap trapped if it helps him feel better. You place your hand in his hair and trace your fingers ghostly over his forehead. You feel him get a bit heavier on top of you as sleep settles in his tired achey body.

"Go to sleep lovie, it's okay to be tired." Elvis taps his hand silently. "What? You want me to hold your hand?" Elvis nods. "I'd love to hold your hand bubba. Sleep well, I love you.' Elvis just squeezes your hand in a silent, I love you too as he finally closes his eyes and lets sleep overtake him again.

*

Woo, an elvis babyspace sickfic!

#sickfic #littleelvispresley #babyspace #little!e #ilovesickfics #elvis presley #kiwiswriting