Sick Days ⇢ P Martens (Patreon)

“You’re sick,” P says, the back of their hand on my forehead.

“I’m fine,” I reply, a clear lie.

“I literally just heard you have a coughing fit,” P shoots back. I watch as they barely glance over their shoulder to look at me. They’re standing over the stove, spoon in their hand as they stir the soup they’re making for me.

It’s P’s love language, all of this. Well, other than the hand-holding, but the acts of service bits. The soup, making my favourite breakfast in the morning, all the little things I’ve become used to since we’ve been together. It’s comforting, our kind of normal even when a supernatural/human relationship can be so far from that.

I wrap the blanket around my shoulders a little, my eyes close as I lean back into the sofa. I’m moments away from falling into a much needed slumber until I feel the other side of the sofa sink in, indicating that P is sitting next to me. Their arm wraps around my shoulder with ease, it’s warm and homely, like it’s meant to be there before they pull me into their side.

“I feel like shit,” I murmur against them. They chuckle softly, I can feel the vibrations in their chest when they do so.

“I can imagine.”

“What?” I question. “Magical beings can get sick?”

P hums. “Our immune system is good… not that good to block out every single virus in the world.” Their fingers trace patterns over my skin delicately. “To me you’re not contagious, though. I can fight a cold.”

“Lucky you.” I sniffle after that, subconsciously grip on to their jumper a little tighter as I try to make myself comfortable. “Distract me.”

“Hm?”

“Distract me,” I say again. “Take my mind off of all of this.”

P ponders for a moment. I can imagine their blue eyes looking to the sky, letting the cogs in their brain run riot as they think of something.

“When I started liking you, B was the first person I told,” they say eventually. I perk up at that.

“Really? How come?”

P shrugs when I look up at them, their lips part for a moment before they answer my questions. “I thought it’d be easier to talk to them about it. I didn’t want to dive head first into a relationship and start rushing things. And B’s good with emotions, they would’ve noticed the changes in how I was feeling.”

It’s not a love confession. P and I have already been through those with one another, said the three special words more times than either of us can count over the years. But, this is a new bit of information that I’ve learned about, and I’m intrigued to know more.

“What did B say when you told them?”

P gives me a smile at that. “They had a bet with the others that I’d start liking you, you know, as more than a friend.”

I snort. “How much was I worth then?”

“I never actually found out, I’ll need to ask.” Their fingers begin to tangle with my own. “Then they told me to mention it to you when the time is right, if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. If not—“

“Then you wouldn’t be cuddling me on this sofa and making me soup.”

“Exactly,” P laughs. “I’m glad I told you. I’m glad there’s an us.”

I look up and give them a smile of my own, my lips grazing their chin. “You and me both.”