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morgansunflower · 8 months

Text

I Thought Of You

Jason Todd X Reader

Warnings:suggestive content, explicit language, whump, past child neglect and drug overdose mentioning

Words:1478

Tyler panicked as he calls his Dad's girlfriend after his Dad loses conscious....

Tyler's hands shake as he unlocked his dad's phone. He began to stutter as he went to his recent calls. Inside his recent phone calls was Alfred from 3 days ago and Y/N today. He quickly called her thinking of her first.

-"hey-- Tyler is that you baby?.." he couldn't calm down "shh shh shh it's OK deep breaths baby" she cooed Tyler listened to her taking deep breaths "good job buddy. Now tell me what's wrong? Are you ok? Where's Jason?"

"it's-it's Jay he fell on the floor and he won't get up and I don't think he can hear me" the young child cried.

Y/N's heart falls as she rushes to get her keys

"ok baby don't panic, don't worry. I'm coming right now. Did he hit his head on anything? A hard object of any kind?" she asked "what happened during patrol?"

"no he just fell onto the floor. We were on patrol and he breathed in fear toxin but he had the antidote! I'm really really scared Y/N"

She, stayed on the phone with Tyler while driving to their house. She parks in their driveway. She quickly cuts the engine.

"ok Tyler I'm here I'm coming inside right now it's gonna be OK" she softly said hearing him crying

"o-ok"

She, hangs up slamming her car door shut, running into the house. With much haist Y/N came inside and shuts the door behind her. She sees Jason laying on the living room floor. He was barely coherent only able to try desperately to keep himself from passing out. Tyler was sitting on the floor beside his dad. Y/N runs to him and moved to her knees. She leans to his nose hearing a shallow breath, and then to his chest.

"his breathing is small but he's OK.. Let's put him onto the couch"

Y/N moved her arms through around his chest lifting Jason onto the couch. Jason sits on the couch as he began shivering from the intense heat. Somehow he knew he was OK. Tyler stood close by trying to keep his tears back.

Y/N leaned close to Jason feeling his forehead that feels as if he has a fever. She rubs his burning forehead.

He began blinking his vision blurred. He had his eyes half open to only barely see her deeply worried face.

"... Y/N?..." he slurred

"shh I'm here. You're safe honey just try to relax, ok? I'm right here Jason" she ensures

Hearing her voice, he knew for sure he was safe. That his little boy is safe. That she is safe.

Y/N took off his jacket following by his shirt. Tyler helped her by taking his shoes and socks off. She then undid his belt.

"can you try to stand with me" she gently said

Jason gave her sloppy nod. She helped him stand onto his feet. He gently applied his weight on her so he wouldn't fall. She pushed his jeans down to his ankles. She holds onto him while Jason's legs shake slightly stepping out of his jeans and was now only wearing his boxers. Y/N motions him to lay on the couch.

She inspected Jason in great detail.. She still sees no injuries which meant it was the fear toxin and not a wound.

"Tyler can you run and get me the medical bag from his room?"

"on it!" Tyler promised running to get the bag

Tyler returned with the bag. She opens it finding the thermometer, she places it in his mouth. She ran her knuckles through his hair. The thermometer began beeping. She takes it from his mouth.

"102. 5" she sighed.

"that's bad..." Tyler said shakily

She touches his am sweetly "oh don't worry baby he'll be OK"

"I'm glad you're here" he said as his eyes were starting to swell

She kissed Tyler's head knowing exactly what was going through the poor child's mind. Jason had told how his mother had overdosed a week before he adopted him.

As Jason slept Tyler left to get another blanket for his Dad... She uses her spy-contacts to tell Batman that the fear toxin had been modified to have a stronger effect and to cause fevers. He then thanked her for the information and asked how his son was.

As she responded to Bruce. Jason softly groaned mumbling a barely audible words as they slurred. She leans close to him kissing his cheek.

"I'm right here" she reminds him fearing his was having a nightmare

He didn't listen as kept trying to say what his heart was screaming to say.. She listened carefully to him. She nearly gasps hearing what he said. He leans into her touch basking in her presence he never wants to stray away from.

"ma... Ary.. Me.. Y/N" he slurred.

Y/N gasps her eyes start to shake. She scolds herself for externally freaking out. They had discussed marriage.. But she didn't expect him to say anything now.. He probably is emotional from the intense fever. Jason may not even remember this..

"I.." she didn't mind saying yes twice or even more times "yes I will marry you"

She kissed him and is then nearly tackled from Tyler. The red-headed boy began to cry. She then to lost control as she hugged him. She holds Jason's hand. Tyler's embrace gave her all the reassurance she needed. Soon thereafter Jason in a slurred speech told Tyler to get the ring..

Hours later. Tyler and Y/N began making soup for Jason for when he gets hungry. They had just finished baking cookies and we're enjoying it so much they decided to keep at it.

Jason gently stirs in his sleep he blinks several times. He feels the weighted blanket on him and the cool rag on his forehead. His body feels weak as he turns his head, his headache became worse.

He blinks again to see Y/N's phone on his coffee table. Then he began to allow panic to settle into his heart. Where were they?

"Y/N!! Tyler!!" Jason quickly moves his covers wincing from the sharp pain to his head from the horrible migraine.

He quickly moved to his feet but as he stands his knees try to buckle beneath him. He heavily breathed trying to keep from falling just as she came running to him. She rushed to Jason to keep him from falling.

"what are you doing Babe?!"

She then understand the answer of her question seeing the panic in his wavered breath. He let out a helpless cry shedding a tear. He began to stutter as he feels her arms finally wrap around his neck.

Jason heavily breathed in and out of his mouth. He hugged her tightly unable to calm down through his breath. He buried his heart wrenching face within the crook of her neck. She gently guided him back to couch sitting him down. Jason clings to her waist as he began to cry.

"shh we're here. Tyler's ok, I'm ok, you're OK" she whispered

She holds his fearful face in her hands. He holds her wrist his face clenched tightly. She kissed him wiping his tears away. Just then a smaller pair of feet come into the room.

"daddy" Tyler cautiously said

"son" Jason gasped with a wavered breath.

Tyler approaches him touching his face. Jason's heart couldn't bear the thought of never seeing his little boy. Never seeing his love.. His heart made his arms weaken more as they try to hold onto his son. Tyler hugged Jason, sweetly rubbing his Dad's back. Jason moved his arm to move Y/N into their embrace.

Jason then truly realized.. It was just a nightmare.

As Jason started to feel his body calm down and his migraine feel less intense. The two sit beside him. They're ok, he remind himself. He saw the light hit the diamond on her finger.

".. Is that... Did I" Jason was in shock yet again.

"You *ahem* did" she nervously answered

"you said yes! You said yes!!" he hugs her, laying his head on her chest "oh shit Y/N I wanted to be perfect to what you deserved. I'm so happy you said yes.."

"oh oh I made cookies and soup with Y/N's help of course I'll go get it" Tyler grinned running off

"ok buddy" Jason chuckled. He softly laughs seeing his clothes on the floor "did we uh"

"no we did not pervert" she laughs kissing his head

"well at least I'll remember when we do" he sits up and pulls her into his lap "I owe you big time then, huh? I get a damn fever and propose to you. I had a whole weekend planned for you"

"I'm happy where ever I am with you and our little boy" she smiled to him

Requested taglist @too-strong-to-lose @asrainterstellar

#Whump! Jason #marriage proposal #Jason Todd X Reader #tyler blue hood #Tyler Todd #Adopted Tyler #Dad Jason Todd #Fluff #Fever #drug overdose #only mentioned #batfamily #good dad bruce wayne #Fevers #fear toxin #Whump #Comfort #suggestive content

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cookies-over-yonder · 5 months

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burning out

After a group sleepover at the Li-Wilson household, Taylor isn't feeling well.

for @silverlistenstothings (because marco)

ao3

⋆

“Taylor, are you okay?”

The teens are having another get-together, this time at the Li-Wilson household, and Grant and Marco have insisted on a big group lunch at the dining table. It’s been nice, well, nice-ish, considering all anyone can talk about was the blood, gore, death, and magical fuckery from the past year or so.

Taylor hasn’t said a word in a while, or eaten much off his plate, and Link is getting worried. His face is flushed too.

“Yeah, I think I’m just hot,” he says, sliding off his jacket to reveal one of his many, many Hatsune Miku tee shirts. When he takes a sip of water, Link sees how his hand trembles.

He must take notice of how Link’s worried gaze because he breathes out, “I’m good,” a few seconds later.

As the conversation continues, mostly by Normal, Scary and Grant, Taylor ties his hair up in a bun and starts to fan himself with his hand, his leather fingerless gloves discarded beside his plate.

“Taylor, honey, maybe we need to check your temperature,” Marco says lowly, so as not to disrupt the chatter across the table.

“No, I—I—I’m pretty sure I’m fine,” Taylor mumbles, though his breathing is rather shaky.

With the hot flash paired with the staggered breathing, Link starts to suspect it’s not just a fever. Anxiety is something he’s known for as long as he can remember.

“Are you sure?” Marco asks.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, just, um,” Taylor swallows and then stands up, “I think I forgot something in Link’s room, I’ll be right back.”

He grabs his cane and walks there far too fast for someone who just forgot something for lunch time.

Link follows him.

Opening the door to his room, he finds Taylor rummaging through his backpack, shaking and panting.

“Hey, hey,” he kneels down next to Taylor, putting a hand on his back, “what are you looking for?”

“Acetaminophen. I… I feel really hot and kinda dizzy, and my chest really hurts and I don’t know why, I—I can’t—”

Taylor gasps for air and shuts his eyes. Link sees his fists tighten around the edges of his backpack.

“ Link, ” he squeezes out, voice strained and weak. It’s a plea.

“I’m here, Taylor.” Link says rubbing Taylor’s back.

“I can’t—I can’t breathe,” he says, and he’s hyperventilating. Okay. Yeah. Anxiety attack.

“Okay, Taylor, hey, I’m gonna pick you up and put you on my bed, okay?”

He nods, and Link does exactly that. Carrying Taylor is different from usual, because instead of clinging to Link, it’s as if he’s paralyzed in fear.

Link sits across from him on the bed, and glances at his shaking hands before taking hold of them, giving them a tight squeeze.

Taylor leans forward, pressing his forehead against Link’s shoulder. He’s really warm.

“Help,” he wheezes, “I don’t know what’s—what’s…”

Taylor clears his throat, and ends up choking out a sob, and his breaths get faster and louder, and he whines something that sounds ever so slightly like Link’s name.

“I’m pretty sure you’re having an anxiety attack. I get them sometimes.”

Link lets go of one of Taylor’s hands to wrap an arm around him and run his fingers through Taylor’s hair.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Taylor hums into his shoulder, still distressed.

“You’re okay. Just take a deep breath in.”

Taylor sucks in a breath.

“Okay, now breathe out.”

He breaths out with a little gasp in the middle.

“In again,” Link says, guiding Taylor’s head from his shoulder to his chest.

Taylor breathes in again, still staggered, but slightly slower, gripping the fabric of Link’s shirt with his free hand.

There’s a faint knock at the door, and the handle turning, and it opening.

“Hey—ah.”

Link hears Marco close the door behind him.

“Hey,” he says, hushed, as he sits on the bed beside Taylor.

Taylor tilts his head to the side and opens his eyes, half-lidded and bleary, breathing still shallow.

“I brought your water,” Marco says, putting a hand on Taylor’s back. “Keep taking deep breaths first. I don’t want you to choke.”

“Thanks—”

Taylor turns to bury his face against Link quite briskly.

Marco stays sitting next to the two with a hand on Taylor’s back as Link leads Taylor in breathing in and out, and after a few more cycles of the exercise his breathing is slow enough for water.

Taylor pulls away and sits up, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. Marco holds the glass up to Taylor, and he takes a sip from the straw.

“Thanks…” Taylor mumbles, closing his eyes once more and leaning back into Link.

“I need to take your temperature, honey,” Marco says, picking a thermometre up off the blanket. Link didn’t even notice it.

Taylor whines, but he backs away again, and turns to Marco with his mouth open. Marco sticks the thermometre under his tongue, and there’s a little beep from it. Then he pulls it out.

“You’ve got a bit of a fever, hon. You should lie down.”

Taylor looks too tired to protest, or even talk, and he just flops down onto Link’s mattress and closes his eyes.

“Maybe he could stay another night?” Link asks, in part from worry and in part because having him around is well, really nice.

“Is Cassandra still out of town?”

“Uh-huh…” Taylor mumbles, turning over and burying his face in Link’s pillow.

“Okay, well I’ll have to talk to Dad about it, but I don’t see why not.”

Marco places the water on Link’s bedside table, and quietly steps out, leaving the door open just a crack behind him.

Link lies down on his back beside Taylor, and in what feels like less than a second, Taylor is practically lying on top of him, and he is really hot. Temperature wise. Well, maybe other ways too, but that’s irrelevant.

“Are you okay?” Link asks, carding his fingers through Taylor’s hair.

“I don’t know what happened,” he mumbles.

“I think you were just anxious.”

“But I don’t get anxious,” Taylor whines.

“I wouldn't be so sure. Especially not after everything.”

Taylor whines again, and tenses up a little. Link kisses the top of his head and rubs his back, hoping to soothe him at least a little.

⁺₊⋆

Link doesn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he wakes up, he’s the one pressed up against Taylor’s side with an arm draped over his torso, and Taylor is sound asleep with a cold compress on his forehead. Link plants a kiss on his cheek and leans back into the crook of his neck, closing his eyes once more.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ⁺₊⋆

#swiftli #hurt/comfort #taylor swift dndads #lincoln li wilson #marco li #cookies writes and cookies wrongs #fic #dndads fic #dndads #dungeons and daddies #sickfic #fevers #cookies fix

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caspira-writes-fanfiction · 1 day

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Ozzie's Secret

Ozzie remembers the first time him & Fizz say "I love you" but Fizzarolli doesn't. Oh, the silly things fevers do.

(This is a chapter from a larger story on ao3 but it works okay as a standalone. ao3 link in title!)

Asmodeus missed Fizzarolli. He hated to admit it, it felt selfish to, but he did. Fizzarolli had won Mammon’s competition for a second time and he was more popular than ever. He’d been working twelve hour days with Mammon four days a week since Ozzie’s opened a few months ago. On his long days, it was easier for Fizz to stay at his apartment closer to Greed. His schedule had been packed with meetings and rehearsals and most recently, filming. The documentary that Mamm wanted was finally in production. Meanwhile, Asmodeus had been busying himself with the new FizzBots. The new telescoping arms and legs weren’t turning out to be as reliable when a computer made the decisions and not Fizzarolli, no matter how artificially intelligent. Asmodeus was seriously considering blocking Mammon’s number with the amount of calls he’d been getting from the other Sin today.

The days were so much longer without Fizzarolli to come home to.

He felt silly for finding himself missing the other, Fizz would be over tomorrow. During the other three days of the week, Fizz headlined at Ozzie’s. Working seven days a week wasn’t the most sustainable for Fizzarolli, but Asmodeus tried to make up for it by creating “conditions” for Fizz’s workplace safety. Very similar to the bills he would make for Fizz to ease the shame of caring for himself, these conditions mostly involved care tasks Fizz was expected to engage in before being allowed to perform. It was also a way to put Fizz on payroll for more than a few hours a day. That not only helped pay off his debts a bit quicker, but it also put more money in Fizz’s pocket.

The three days of the week that he got to spend with Fizz were some of his favorites. It hardly felt like work at all, it was a great reward for the other half of the week being dedicated to business. Rumors of Lust and Fizz being an item had circulated throughout tabloids ever since Fizz won Mammon’s pageant the first time, they’d been more popular since Ozzie’s opened. One tabloid had even questioned if Lust was in love. Asmodeus didn’t worry about it, rumors like this had circulated before. He was thousands of years old, time was different for him. Rumors didn’t necessarily hold the same weight. And they were just that, rumors. Lust was perfectly content to tell himself that.

Still, the days were so much longer without Fizzarolli to come home to.

Asmodeus couldn’t deny the way his heart picked up when his phone buzzed with a message from Fizz.

Froggy: You’re not in your office? TheBigO: No. Testing more designs today. Froggy: Oh! You’re in the workshop! TheBigO: No again, Fizzy. I’m in the factory. TheBigO: Wait, are you in my office? Froggy: Well not anymore. You’re not there.

Had Asmodeus gotten the day wrong? Was he working on a club day? He checked twice, it was still Thursday. Fizz wasn’t supposed to be over until tomorrow morning, tonight if Lust was lucky, but it was the middle of the day. Fizz was supposed to be rehearsing and shooting all day. If not for the documentary, then for commercials.

TheBigO: I thought you were working in Greed today. Froggy: Nope! Not anymore! ;p TheBigO: Oh? What’s the special occasion? Froggy: I’m hot! TheBigO: Well, yeah you are ;) TheBigO: But how did that get you out of work early? Froggy: Why don’t you come back and find out, Big Daddy?

Asmodeus was more than intrigued at what Fizzarolli had in store for him. This wasn’t the first time he’d surprised Ozzie with something sexy, but he didn’t usually ask Asmodeus to take time off work. Not half a day, at least. And Mammon wasn’t generally one to let his employees leave early, even his most profitable. Asmodeus was curious; excited with a hint of concern. He finished his work quickly and was quick to head back home.

The penthouse was quiet when Ozzie arrived. Fizz had said he’d left the office, he wanted Lust to come find him. Odds were good he was in the bedroom then.

“Fizz?” Asmodeus called out as he started down the hall. He wasn’t necessarily expecting a response, he definitely wasn’t expecting the jester to jump down from the ceiling and tackle him.

“Tag!” Just as quickly as Fizz had appeared, he’d run off and disappeared.

“What the…?” Ozzie mumbled to himself as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He blinked as he tried to figure out how Fizzarolli had managed to disappear down the hall quickly enough that Ozzie really didn’t know which door he could have slipped behind. “Oh, you slippery little devil….” Ozzie was grinning wickedly. So this was how it was going to be? Well, game on.

Ozzie was startled by an air horn as he turned a corner. The sound of Fizz’s laugh bounced towards the kitchen.

Fizz slipped out of a cabinet and between Ozzie’s legs as the sin checked in the cabinet above. He evaded Ozzie in the living room by sliding under the sofa and running once Lust picked it up. The library had been an adventure; Fizz had dislodged more than a few tomes and nearly knocked over a bookcase while climbing the walls. He managed to escape narrowly, nearly getting caught by his tail as he laughed down the halls. Asmodeus chased behind Fizz happily, cat and mouse was wonderful foreplay.

Fizzarolli bounced between walls and hid behind doors. Ozzie was always one step behind, but Fizz really was slippery. It wasn’t until they got to the bedroom that Asmodeus was able to pin him down.

Fizz’s laughter roared as Ozzie straddled him, pinning him to the bed with his hands above his head. He loved when Ozzie held him down like this. His body, however, was not a fan of stagnation. His laugher died out as he felt the lead weight of exhaustion fall over his body. His skin felt raw against his clothes, his muscles ached and he quickly became keenly aware of each joint that wasn’t supported. It became harder to hold the smile on his face. It was hard to catch a breath and even his eyes ached. He blinked as he focused up on the Sin pinning him down. He licked his lips. He hadn’t realized until now that both his mouth and his lips were dry. Fizz had been going non stop lately, he hadn’t had an opportunity to sit still. Now that he was forced into slowing down, he realized just how horrible he felt.

Asmodeus could see the way Fizzarolli’s demeanor changed only seconds after being pinned into place. His face fell, he had trouble keeping his eyes open. He’d been doing a lot of running, sure, but even breathing seemed to be a labor for him. As Asmodeus looked closer, he could see that Fizz was sweating, he was sure he’d find flushed skin under his foundation. Fizzarolli looked miserable.

“You’re really not feeling well, are you?”

Fizzarolli’s lip trembled as he was confronted with the question. No, he didn’t feel well, he didn’t feel well at all. The world spun as Fizz shook his head in response. He didn’t know how to get it to stop, he let out a whimper as closing his eyes didn’t seem to work. Fizz understood high pain days, but this was something different. Similar, but different enough that it threw Fizz off. He hated new symptoms, they made his anxiety skyrocket. He knew he wasn’t dying but that didn’t stop him from spiraling into thoughts of doctors and hospitals and what if his life was stripped away from him again?

“Hey, hey now.” Oz let go of Fizzarolli and moved do sit down beside him. He now understood what Fizz had meant earlier when he’d said he was hot. As Asmodeus shifted to wipe tears from Fizz’s cheeks he could feel the heat pulsing from Fizzarolli’s skin. “Babe, you’re burning up.”

The yelp that Fizzarolli gave out at Ozzie’s comment instantly made the Sin regret his word choice. It also added an additional layer of worry about the situation. Fizzarolli was very delicate right now.

“Sorry.” Asmodeus shushed. He watched with added concern as the clown curled onto his side, pulled his horns down over his eyes to block out light and wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

“I meant to say that you have a fever.”

Fizzarolli didn’t move from his position except to press the palms of his hands against his eyes to relieve some pressure. He took a few deep breaths. Breathing wasn’t hard, he was just in pain. When he lowered his palms, he peeked out from under the edge of his hat and gave Asmodeus a smile. “I told you I was hot” his tongue hissed at the other playfully. He left it sticking out. The energy he’d had just minutes ago was gone, but it was clear he was making an effort.

Even while sick, Fizzarolli was adorable. Asmodeus smiled down at him lightly. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

Asmodeus returned a few minutes later with a pink first aid kit, an ice bucket without champagne but instead, a bottle of water and damp washcloths. Fizz grumbled as the bed dipped next to him. He’d gone back to closing his eyes but peeked one open as Asmodeus sat next to him.

“Alright Froggy, lets see just how hot you are.” Asmodeus pulled a thermometer out of the kit.

Fizz gave a lazy chuckle. “ ‘s that for my mouth or my ass?”

“Your mouth” Ozzie laughed. He placed a gentle hand against Fizz’s thigh. “Though, if you’d like a little probing, we can arrange for that.”

The twinge of pain that crossed Fizz’s face as Asmodeus touched his thigh was enough of an answer though. Ozzie held the thermometer out towards Fizz’s mouth and let the demon wrap his tongue around it. Ozzie tried not to worry himself too much as he waited for the thermometer to beep with its results.

Fizz’s fever was high. Concerningly high. Asmodeus was quick to press the cold cloths against Fizz’s neck and back. Fizzarolli visibly relaxed as the cold water from the cloths reminded him what it felt like to not be boiling. Asmodeus was able to relax a bit more too. He turned back to the first aid kit and looked through the medicines stored until he found a fever reducer that wouldn’t interact with Fizz’s other medications. He put two in his hand and held it out to Fizz.

Fizzarolli knew the routine. His tongue licked up Ozzie’s arm and wrist to tease him before taking the pills. He drank from the water bottle as if was offered to him then returned to resting. Hopefully these would help, and soon. Fizzarolli really hated how his clothes scratched against his skin and Ozzie’s touch burnt. Still, there was nowhere Fizzarolli would rather be right now.

He hadn’t realized how much Ozzie’s presence seemed to help settle him until Oz was getting out of bed again to put the first aid kit away. Fizzarolli pouted and stretched his hand blindly out towards the other until he reached something solid. The sound of Ozzie’s humming settled him even more. He could feel his hand being grabbed and held.

“I’m just putting the first aid kit away.” Asmodeus reassured. He returned to bed a moment later and laid down parallel to Fizzarolli. He brought Fizz’s hand up to his mouth and gave it a kiss. Lust’s chest swelled as Fizzarolli’s face split into a large, lazy grin at that.

They lay like that for a while. Asmodeus knew that Fizzarolli needed to rest. He hoped that the cold cloths helped, he hoped that the medicine would help. It was unsettling seeing Fizzarolli so listless. Asmodeus didn’t like that his touch hurt instead of comforted. That wasn’t common between them.

The room stayed quiet for several minutes. Asmodeus had dimmed the lights which seemed to help Fizzarolli relax more. The rain tapped lightly against the windows. Fizzarolli stirred occasionally, he was never quite comfortable enough. Finally, that was enough.. Fizzarolli pushed himself up from the bed and started wandering around the room.

“Fizz?” Asmodeus sat up along with him but he didn’t leave the bed. He watched curiously for a few moments. Fizzarolli was laughing, but Asmodeus had no idea at what. Lust climbed out of bed and started walking towards Fizzarolli to get a better read on him, but Fizzarolli saw Asmodeus’s reflection in the window averted him. His legs grew taller than Ozzie, his arms stretched over his head and Fizzarolli bridged over Asmodeus. He tried to kick over, but more or less ended up landing on his face.

Asmodeus snapped and closed his bedroom doors before Fizz could slip away from him. The clown managed to get back onto his feet by the time Ozzie had crossed the room to him.

“Fizz, come on. You’re sick. You need to rest.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” Fizz’s words slurred together. He didn’t meet Ozzie’s eyes. “I was just-” Fizz yawned. He stood precariously, using his telescoping arms as support and took a few steps forward. His legs were extra noodly as he walked. “Just practicing for my act tonight!”

Asmodeus took a step along with Fizzarolli, doing his best to play defense. Lust was very worried. Fizzarolli needed to be lying down right now. “Babe, it’s Thursday.”

“Hmm?” the world spun as Fizz turned his head to face Asmodeus. He’d been feeling fine earlier, and laying down had been boring and painful. He was fine. Once the dizziness cleared, he’d be fine.

“You don’t have an act tonight. Stop practicing and get to bed!” He was exasperated, but playfully so. It didn’t matter though, Fizz didn’t really hear what Asmodeus had to say.

His head felt lighter than his body. His body didn’t actually really feel real. He tried to concentrate on the fiery blue but that was difficult. “Oz….I….I don’t….” he tried to blink, but his vision was growing blurrier. He took a step towards Ozzie, his foot didn’t feel as stable touching the ground as it should. “I feel…” He thought he could hear Asmodeus faintly, but the last thing Fizzarolli remembered thinking was how pretty Lust’s dark purple floors were.

“Fizzy!” Asmodeus was quick to catch the falling imp. He was dead weight in Ozzie’s arms.

The first thing Fizzarolli noticed as he came to was Lust’s voice.

“Yes, thank you. Thank you very much, I’ll see you soon. Yes.” Click. The next thing Fizzarolli noticed was that he was being held. If he pressed his ear up close enough to Oz’s chest he could hear his heartbeat. It was beating really fast.

Bright glassy eyes blinked up at the Sin. His hand rested against Ozzie’s chest as Fizz tried to remember how his voice worked.

“Oh!” Ozzie sounded surprised. Bull looked concerned, Ram was excited. Ozzie’s face was struck with worry, but split into a relieved grin once he caught the jester’s eyes. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Fizzarolli smiled as Ozzie did, large and content. Asmodeus was safe, Asmodeus was calm, Asmodeus was home. His fingers ran along Ozzie’s chest, tracing lazy heart patterns against it. “Hi.”

Ozzie softened. How in Hell did he manage to be so cute so fucking often? Fizz had terrified Asmodeus by passing out, but the Sin was feeling a little better now that he was awake and talking. Asmodeus was far from being calm about Fizzarolli’s condition, but he was feeling a little more stable. Ozzie bent down to rest his head against Fizz’s. “Hi.” He gave Fizzarolli a kiss on the cheek. Fizz giggled.

“We’ve got to get your fever down, Fizzy.” Asmodeus informed his clown as he started heading towards the en suite. Fizzarolli continued to giggle. That was….mildly concerning. Asmodeus reminded himself that Fizzarolli was awake and help was on the way. Conscious was better than unconscious, even if delirious.

Fizzarolli had commissioned multiple sets of horns since receiving regular paychecks, two specifically for the bath. Fizz was very sensitive about his horns, Asmodeus hadn’t gotten close to trying to look or touch them. He had no interest in it, there were plenty of other parts of Fizz he was more than happy to put his hands on. But when Fizzarolli couldn’t even really help take his clothes off, Asmodeus had to get creative with how he was going to protect the non-water proof fabric that his horns were currently made out of.

One kaiju sized condom (non-lubricated of course, in favor of fabric protection) fit the jingly horns well enough. Asmodeus had to tie a knot on the top of Fizz’s head to keep it secure, but his little laughing jester didn’t seem to mind. He managed to crack a joke or two, though they weren’t nearly as funny as Fizz seemed to think they were.

The laughing only stopped once the two of them were submerged chest deep in the large crystalline tub. Asmodeus had done his best to make sure it wasn’t too cold for Fizzarolli, but that didn’t stop Fizz from nearly ripping out a few chest feathers as he got acclimated to the temperature change.

“Breathe through it.” Asmodeus took a deep breath to model for Fizzarolli who was no longer dead weight, he was tenser than stone. “You’ll get used to it soon and then it’ll feel so good.”

With time and gentle reassurance, Fizzarolli’s body did gradually ease to the temperature of the water. He even let Asmodeus rub his back without showing signs of pain. The moment was very nearly peaceful.

“I love you, Asmodeus.” Fizzarolli hummed. His voice was lazy and soft, tired and content. It broke the silence that had predicated the past several minutes. Asmodeus didn’t know how to process what he'd just heard.

“What’d you say?” He looked down carefully at Fizzarolli, who was curled happily against Lust’s chest, eyes closed and more than content to be allowed to just lay there. Fizzarolli smiled at the question and hummed again happily.

“I love you.”

Asmodeus didn’t know how to respond at first. He’d never had those words spoken to him before. He wasn’t expecting it, he didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t need to, though. Fizzarolli yawned, stretched, then continued to talk.

“I’s okay if you don’t. I don’ expect it…...it’s….it’s a lot, I know.” Fizzarolli paused. “You just….you make everything so much better.”

Fizz sounded like he was trying not to cry. The poor thing. He was delirious, certainly that’s what was happening. He was delirious and exhausted, he didn’t know what he was talking about. Asmodeus was quick to respond with reassurances. “Hey, shh. No tears, Froggy. I’ve got you.”

Lust had never said I love you before, but he was considering it.

Fizz seemed to be a bit more lucid by the time they were finished in the bath. Fizz refused to wear anything other than silk or satin pajamas today but that was no problem, they had an assortment of options to choose from. Fizzarolli also refused to be anywhere other than Lust’s arms, but just like with the pajamas, Asmodeus didn’t mind. In fact, he found himself preferring it. He was getting better at reading Fizz’s energy from afar, but Lust’s real power was in the sensation of touch. With Fizzarolli so close, he could almost feel what Fizz was.

The way Fizzarolli hid in Lust’s chest as one of Bell’s physicians came to examine him was sharp and electric. Fizz was scared. Asmodeus knew to be gentle then, to keep him as close as he could and only let the doctor near when necessary. He did most of the talking for Fizz while the jester hid his face in Ozzie’s chest and shook. If Lust listened carefully, he could hear Fizz singing to himself in whisper. Asmodeus couldn’t tell if the shaking was from fear of fever, that uncertainty didn’t sit well with him. He held Fizzarolli a little bit closer.

Fizzarolli's temperature was still high, his response time was delayed, and not all of his answers to their questions made total sense. Asmodeus ran through each symptom he had observed for the doctor, his hand placed protectively against Fizz’s back. That had helped with the shaking a bit.

“Was there anything else?” Asmodeus asked Fizzarolli. “Anything I didn’t say? How are you feeling?”

Fizzarolli squirmed in Ozzie’s arms. He pouted and nodded. “My horns hurt.”

Nobody had really known that was possible. They hadn’t hurt since the accident. They’d burned down close to the base but not so far that there were any raw spots. The tension in the room was palpable when the doctor said they’d have to look at Fizz’s horns to make sure there wasn’t a problem. Doctors were allowed to see his horns, they had a legitimate medical reason to. Asmodeus still wasn’t allowed to see the horns, but Fizzarolli also wouldn’t let him leave. The conundrum had taken several minutes of negotiation to figure out how to handle. It had nearly put Fizzarolli to tears twice but Ozzie was able to manage his anxieties and they were able to come up with a compromise.

Asmodeus sat on the far edge of the bed with his back turned to Fizzarolli. One of Fizz’s arms was extended so that it wrapped three times around Oz’s waist with enough leftover for Asmodeus to pepper kisses along his hand and down his arm. It allowed Asmodeus to be present and his anxious energy could be used to distract Fizz. Every time Fizz squeezed his hand or whimpered, Asmodeus poured more attention in finding sensations that would transfer through to Fizz. Fizzarolli was delicate right now, he needed to be treated preciously.

The doctor reasoned that Fizzarolli’s horns were aching at the break, likely due to the severity of his fever. He put a cooling gel that should help numb the pain over the effected area.

“Don’t put that hat back on.” Asmodeus ordered when he heard the tell tale jingle bells move. Ozzie pointed to Fizz’s dresser where his three favorite horn sets lay. “The blue pair. They’re quieter, softer, and more breathable. He’ll be more comfortable in those.”

When Fizzarolli was appropriately dressed again, Asmodeus was dragged back into bed where Fizz eagerly climbed back in his arms. The two of them settled. Lust whispered quiet praise to Fizzarolli, he helped coax Fizz into drinking a pink sparkly fever reducer produced from Belphagor herself. He was unsuccessful in getting him to eat anything but managed to feed Fizz ice chips to help keep him hydrated.

The physician gave Ozzie a small bottle of pink shimmering liquid and a package of stickers that would help keep Fizz’s fever under control between medicine doses if necessary. They were pink and shaped like hearts. The doctor promised to be back tomorrow morning to check in on them and left their card in case they were needed earlier.

Fizzarolli liked the stickers. He managed to convince Asmodeus to put one on each of his cheeks and three down his spine. Fizzarolli stole one and slapped it in the middle of Ozzie’s chest. He chuckled as he pointed at it. “Third nipple.”

Asmodeus chuckled too. He loved how Fizzarolli was always finding something to smile about. He saw the good and whimsy in everything, it was admirable.

“Let’s get some sleep, Fizz.”

Fizzarolli didn’t argue. He yawned and stretched, repositioning himself until he was comfortable against Ozzie’s chest.

“G’night, Ozzie” Fizzarolli said at four in the afternoon. “Love you.”

For a second time that night he’s used the L word at Asmodeus. Fizzarolli fell into sleep shortly after but Lust stayed up for many more hours. I love you. It had to be the fever that made Fizzarolli say it. Asmodeus couldn’t be sure he even knew what he was saying, let alone really meant it. Still, Lust couldn’t stop thinking about it. Fizzarolli was something special, he was like no other demon Asmodeus had ever known. He couldn’t help but wonder if the tabloids were right. Could Lust be falling in love? It didn’t feel like falling to Ozzie; falling was turbulent, Asmodeus was scared of falling. Asmodeus didn’t feel scared with Fizzarolli, though. He felt excited with Fizz, usually he felt like flying.

Fizzarolli slept for many hours and he slept hard. On more than one occasion, Asmodeus had to wipe Fizz’s drool from his chest and he was hard pressed to be able to move under Fizz’s dead weight. Asmodeus was glad that Fizzarolli was getting rest. He looked peaceful. Lust was thankful that he could help Fizzarolli get there. Eventually, Lust was calm enough to drift into sleep himself.

When Asmodeus woke again hours later, Fizzarolli was anything but peaceful. He’d flopped from his spot on Asmodeus’s chest, taking much of the blanket with him, and was currently squirming and trying to fight his way out of the tangled mess he’d managed to get himself into. Oz could see well enough by the glow of the fireplace, but he brought the lights up a fraction to get a better look.

Fizzarolli wasn’t awake, but maybe he should be. He’d worked himself up into a fit; he was sweating and panting, the soft noises Fizzarolli was making sounded distressed. A nightmare? Lust carefully helped Fizz untangle himself from the blankets. Fizz continued to thrash.

“Fizzy…” Asmodeus gently poked the other, testing to see how difficult it would be to wake him. He was warm again. Asmodeus checked the time. He’d overslept, Fizz was due for his second dose of medicine an hour ago. “Hey now, okay.” Lust carefully cradled the clown in his hands and brought him back up to his chest. Fizzarolli thrashed against him at first, but woke up shortly after being picked up. Bright, terrified eyes blinked up at Ozzie.

“It’s alright, you’re safe.”

Fizz continued to stare, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. Tears pricked at his eyes as he tried making sense of what was happening. He was just in the middle of the most horrible dream.

“You were having a nightmare. It’s not real.”

If it wasn’t real, then why was he shaking? Fizzarolli wiped at his cheeks, he pulled at the neck of his pajamas where it was starting to itch. He could feel three pairs of eyes studying him. After a few moments, Asmodeus spoke again.

“Would you be more comfortable without those?” Lust asked, toying with the hem of his pajamas. He was careful to help Fizz out of the sweaty slip when he nodded. It took several more minutes for Asmodeus to convince Fizzarolli that he was sick, and that the pink bottle was medicine and not something that would hurt him. Asmodeus couldn’t convince Fizzarolli that the stickers would help, so they went without.

Asmodeus draped the blanket over them again and held Fizzarolli close. He was still shaking, part of it was residual fear that Fizz had to let wear off, but not all of it. Hopefully that meant his fever was breaking.

“What can I do, Froggy? What’s going to help?” Asmodeus asked, desperate to try and help Fizz settle. He placed his hand along the small of Fizzarolli’s back, holding him close.

Fizzarolli thought about his answer for several seconds before looking up at Ozzie. He looked so small when he did, it had been a long time since he’d made such a request. “Can you tell me a story?”

Fuck, he was cute. Lust wasn’t the storyteller that Fizzarolli was, but how could he say no to that face?

“Alright.” Ozzie made sure Fizz was positioned comfortably against him. His hand supported Fizz’s bottom, holding his hip in a way that stretched it while Fizz’s arms stretched up and around Asmodeus’s neck. He supposed an extended stretch could be comfortable for someone who’s spent the better part of their day laying down or sleeping. When he could feel Fizz relax in his position, Asmodeus began.

“Once upon a time there was a king. He lived in a beautiful castle, in a kingdom that he built himself. He lived for pleasure, both for himself and for his people. The king had a happy kingdom, he had a happy life. One day, the king was introduced to someone from another kingdom. I don’t think they knew it, but this someone was special. He had the ability to find pleasure in even the worst moments. He stared darkness in the eye and found a way to turn it into light. And he needed the king’s help.”

Fizzarolli yawned. He pressed a lazy kiss to Lust’s chest. “Did the king help him?” Fizz sounded half asleep already.

Asmodeus hummed. “Of course he helped. But there’s more.”

“The king helped him. Over time, the two of them grew to be friends. With each thing that the king did to help, his friend shined brighter and brighter. He was dazzling. The king hadn’t thought he was lonely. He wasn’t when his friend was around, but when he was away he wondered how he’d ever gotten on with his day. His friend brought light into the dark.”

“A good friend” Fizz mumbled. Ozzie agreed.

“There were very few people the king could relate to, but he felt seen with his friend. He wanted nothing but the best for him. He wanted his friend around all the time. He had never felt this way about anybody else, he didn’t know what to call it. The king was afraid to name how he felt about the other. He wasn’t supposed to have a favorite, he was supposed to want for all, to want blindly for pleasure. But his friend was the greatest pleasure he’d ever known. For a while he’d tried to want for others. He still wants for his kingdom and his people, but he wants more than just pleasure. He wants the other’s light to brighten his days.”

Fizzarolli hummed. He was dead weight against Asmodeus, barely hanging on to consciousness.

“I love you, Fizzarolli.”

Fizzarolli’s lips curled into a large, sleepy smile. His tongue stuck out as if he was starting to say I love you too but became too tired and never did. Cute Asmodeus thought.

Fizz slept peacefully for another four hours, but Ozzie didn’t get a wink of sleep. He’d just told Fizzarolli he loved him. Lust had never used the love word before, not in regards to someone else. He hadn’t thought it was an option for a Sin like himself. He was Lust, he was the Big Sexy. He was a thrill, he wasn’t the long term plan.

But Fizzarolli wasn’t most, he was special. He saw beauty in the strange and always had a way to make someone laugh. He brought joy to Ozzie’s day, he made things better. He inspired him and comforted him. Fizzarolli understood him in a way most others couldn’t, Asmodeus cared about his jester deeply. More than anyone, really. Lust was pleasure, but Fizzarolli was Lust’s greatest pleasure. He had so much to thank Fizzarolli for.

Asmodeus thought about that as the doctor returned in the morning and diagnosed Fizz as dehydrated. He thought about it as he comforted Fizzarolli who was less than excited about his best vein for intravenous fluids being in his neck. He thought the phrase many times while he and Fizz lay still and waited for the treatment to be over. He thought about loving Fizz as he dressed him in his softest sleep shirt and carried him to their sofa where they spent the day watching Hell-A-Novella reruns. He thought about love each time he checked the imps temperature that day.

There were a lot of things that Asmodeus loved about Fizzarolli, but there was nothing he loved more than to be woken up to the fiery little devil's face grinning down at him the next morning. Fizz’s eyes were bright, but not with fever. His smile was pointed and deliberate. He sat upright, straight and strong, with his legs straddling Lust’s chest. His hand cupped Ozzie’s cheek. Asmodeus blinked a few more times, trying to clear sleep from his eyes. They weren’t in bed, had they fallen asleep watching television last night?

“Good morning, sleepy heads!” Fizz’s hands moved to give Ram and Bull gentle noogies to help wake them up.

Asmodeus stretched and sat up. He watched, amused, as Fizzarolli climbed him to perch against his shoulder. “Someone’s feeling better.”

Fizz nodded. “Mostly. I’m hungry.”

“Is that why you woke me up?” Fizzarolli’s laugh was the answer. Lust pushed himself off the sofa and the two of them headed towards the kitchen.

“I’m glad you’ve got your appetite back.” Asmodeus mused as he watched Fizzarolli start in on a stack of waffles as tall as his torso. It had taken him over an hour to convince Fizz to drink half a cup of pho yesterday, this was a much welcomed change.

Fizzarolli responded by beaming at Asmodeus before eating a waffle in two big bites. “I’m starving, didn’t you feed me?”

“You didn’t want to be fed!”

Fizzarolli rolled his eyes and ate another waffle, that didn’t’ sound very much like him. He must have been sick. One arm extended back into the kitchen in search of peanut butter, that’s what this breakfast needed

“Well I bounce back fast.” Fizz dipped his third waffle into the peanut butter jar and tried it. He moaned loudly and rolled his eyes back. Peanut butter was what this breakfast needed. After taking several seconds to savor the savory and the sweet, Fizz looked back over at Asmodeus. He laughed at the king’s expression.

“Was I a good patient? You don’t look like you’ve gotten much sleep.”

Asmodeus chuckled. “Before or after the slipperiest game of tag I’ve ever played?”

“What are you talking about?”

Ozzie stilled. Had Fizz forgotten about that? What else didn’t Fizz remember? “What all do you remember?”

Fizzarolli thought for a moment. “I remember waking up with a bitch of a headache. Mammon had me shooting the commercial for the Bots. The lights were….really bright. He told me to get my shit together.”

“And that’s it?”

“We watched television yesterday.”

Asmodeus scanned Fizzarolli’s face for any indication that he was lying, but there was nothing. So he didn’t remember saying I love you.

“Why? Did I do something embarrassing? Say something ridiculous?”

Now wasn’t the time to have that conversation. Asmodeus didn’t know how to explain his love to Fizz right now. For now, this was Ozzie’s secret.

Asmodeus smiled and shook his head. “You started a very chaotic game of tag. Made a lot of dick jokes. But no, you were a fine patient.”

Fizzarolli snorted. “That does sound like me.”

Asmodeus took a sip of his coffee, Fizz reached to the plate in the center of the table and grabbed another piece of bacon. The two of them smiled when they caught each other’s eye.

“Thank you, Asmodeus.”

Fizzarolli had no need to thank him. If anything, Asmodeus should be thanking Fizzarolli. He’d given him plenty of worry over the past few days, but every bit of that worry was worth it. Fizzarolli gave Asmodeus so much good. Fizzarolli gave him love.

#fizzmodeus #fizzarozzie #first I love you #sickfic #ao3 fanfic #helluva boss fanfiction #fizzarolli #asmodeus #asmodeus x fizzarolli #fevers #fainting #asmodeus is a mother hen #fluff #hurt/comfort #whump #fanfiction

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softblesses · 6 months

Text

Winter is Here.

This is a fic created for the lovers of sickfic & some snz, mostly just created for my self indulgence. Please don’t reblog to non-kink blogs. It hasn’t been fully beta read or edited yet, but I’m impatient.

Feel free to hop into my dms to discuss and yell about N/eal Ca/ffrey & the show in general! I’m on a rewatch and back in my hyper fixate stages. I’m not done writing for these lot just yet!

~Part 1 below the line~

“Dammit, Neal. .” Was a phrase Peter Burke found himself saying multiple times a day, several times a week. His CI was late again, and hasn’t been answering his phone. Granted, it’s only been half an hour, but there’s no telling when Neal will arrive or what excuse he’ll come up with this time.

Eventually, almost two hours later, Peter spots him making his way across the bullpen and upstairs. There’s a coffee cup in his hand, of course, and his hat is slightly askew and dusted with snow.

“And what time do you call this, exactly?” Peter mutters, not looking up from his paperwork as he flicks through another page and sighs.

A pause. “I’m guessing you don’t want me to answer with the exact time?” Neal questions, removing his hat and taking a seat, tipping the cup up to his mouth to finish the hot drink up.

Peter sighs once again, simply sliding a pile of papers Neal’s way. “Paperwork day, congratulations,” he mutters, glancing up at his informant and watching his disappointed facial expression towards the task at hand.

Neal picks up a pen from the conference room desk, and scans over the pages. He flicks through them pages, click-clacks the pen a few times, and sighs heavily, followed by a yawn.

“Boring you already?” Peter hums, gaze still concentrated on the work before him as he hunches over.

“Somethin’ like that,” Neal mutters back, moving to stand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Burke sits upright, an eyebrow quirked upwards and arms folding neatly across his chest.

“Jeez, Peter. A man isn’t allowed to use the bathroom anymore?” His hands held up in surrender, before making his way to the door.

Heading across the bullpen, his pace a little slower than usual, Neal clears his throat; once, twice. It’s still scratchy, and he’d assumed it was just lack of water whilst sleeping overnight. He sniffles next, and surely that was just the freeze in the air outside; winter has dawned upon New York with a vengeance, and the chill he feels certainly confirms that much. But, a second before he reaches the men’s room, he sneezes. Not all that unusual. . . It happens, from time to time.

He eventually makes his way back to the conference room, blinking a few times and sniffling again. He should’ve warmed up by now; the office has heating, and usually he has no issues with temperature regulation. But something isn’t quite right this morning. Neal sits, shifting uncomfortably as he stares at the page in front of him. He’s always hated this part of their deal, working the cases and having to fill in page after page of writing afterwards — especially after a particularly in-depth job. But, it’s not that bad , and usually they get pizza and coffees and he’ll complain until Peter lets him take a break or two.

Today, Neal Caffrey is almost silent. Peter doesn’t like that, because a silent Neal means something is up. He’s planning something, or working on some sort of escape out of the inevitable boredom of paperwork, surely.

“Neal?” Peter calls for a second time, staring across at his partner. “Anyone home?”

Watering blue eyes glance upwards, and a quick swipe of his hand dries them off. “What?” He doesn’t mean to snap, but he’s tired, and Peter’s bothering him for something that will most likely be a quip against him. It doesn’t usually bother him, but today he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Jeez, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, huh?”

“I was asking, do you want pizza? My treat.”

Neal looks back down at his papers, subtly trying to rub at his nose. “No, thanks. I ate.” It’s not all a lie. He had a pastry before leaving the house, but now he really wasn’t hungry.

Squinting at him, Peter shrugs. Something was off about him today, and he’ll get to the bottom of it. . After he rounds up the others, and gets their pizza orders in. He leaves the room after a minute or two, and Neal sinks down in his chair with a relieved sigh. He reaches into his suit pocket for the few squares of tissue he’d taken from the bathroom, and pats at his nose. Neal Caffrey doesn’t get sick. He thought to himself, stifling a sneeze against his wrist and rubbing his eyes.

He gets to his feet after that, collecting up his papers and sneaking out of the room and to his desk. It’ll be easier to concentrate here, that’s what he’ll tell Peter. He’s just tired, and the weather is making his head all fuzzy. In fact, he barely notices Peter coming up behind him, and he even uncharacteristically flinches as a hand settles on his shoulder a moment later.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” Neal deadpans, scrawling some notes onto his sheet.

“You sure?”

“Peter, I’m just doing what I’m not paid for. Can concentrate better down here — Jones chews too loud.” He mutters, and really, it’s not exactly a lie.

“Alright. . Pizza’s gonna be up there soon if you want some.” The footsteps wander away, and Neal’s left alone again.

An hour passes by, and then another, and Peter’s keeping an eye on Neal through the glass of the conference room. In fairness, he hasn’t seen him do anything particularly strange. . . Aside from visit the bathroom once or twice, and make his way back and forth from the water cooler. Maybe he’s calling the short friend. Or, maybe he’s just thirsty. Either way, he seems grumpy and Peter would rather leave him to sulk about the paperwork day alone, if that’s what gives them some peace for the rest of the afternoon.

The day begins to draw to a close as the clock ticks closer to five pm, yet the piles of papers don’t seem to be dissipating at the same rate. Peter exhales heavily as he signs off on another report, placing it carefully on top of the other one. He’d sent Jones home a few minutes ago, and Lauren too. They didn’t have as much to do, and the weather looked to be worsening — the both of them lived further than Peter does.

His eyebrows raise as there’s a small knock at the door, and his eyes light up at the pleasant sight of his wife. Peter stands, grinning now. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He questions, stepping closer and giving her a kiss on the cheek. . . But, she doesn’t look as happy to see him as he does her.

Uh oh. What did he do now?

“Well, I was on my way home and wanted to bring you some warm treats. . .” El trails off, folding her arms with the paper bag still in hand.

“But?” Peter adds expectantly, genuinely dumbfounded.

“Have you seen Neal?”

“Oh, God, what did he —“ the agent glances over at Neal’s desk, surprised to see he’s still there. Not only

Is he still there, but. . .

“Is he asleep?” Peter scoffs out something of a laugh, shaking his head. “Working hard or hardly workin’, huh?”

“Peter!” El scolds, giving him a light tap on the arm.

“What?!”

“Have you actually paid attention to him? C’mon.” She gestures for her husband to follow her down into the bullpen, and all the way to Neal’s desk. He’s snoring, head resting against his arm. His cheeks seem to display a light flush, and the tip of his nose looks irritated and red.

Peter frowns.

“Honey, he’s sick. He must be exhausted!” El whispers, a look of genuine sympathy crossing her features. “We need to take him home. He needs fluids and rest, not paperwork and scolding.”

Peter is speechless for a moment. Neal? Sick? He’d thought he was simply up to something, and in a bad mood because of their boring day of work. He supposes it makes sense now — avoiding him, going to the bathroom more often and drinking lots of water. He must’ve been trying to soothe a sore throat, and had clearly been hiding it from Peter, too.

“He pulled a health con on me. .” He mutters, watching as his wife gently rouses his CI from the slumber he’s been in for God knows how long. Some Detective, huh?

Neal sits up fast, a sharp intake of breath causing a light bout coughing. There’s a sheet of paper stuck to his cheek, and his hair is disheveled and sweaty. Peter tries not to laugh at the sight, as bad as he feels for him at the same time.

“Contrary to popular belief,” Neal mumbles, voice thick with congestion now. “I was not asleep. I was envisioning. . Paperwork, with my eyes. Closed. My eyes closed.”

El pouts, looking at Peter, before reaching to pluck the stuck paper from Neal’s cheek. “I think you’re a little feverish, honey. Let’s get you home.” She offers Neal an arm, to which he takes without question; a dazed sort of look in his usually bright blue eyes. Peter gathers up their things, and they begin to lead the confused conman to their car outside.

“What about the paperwork?” Neal asks, frowning as he’s ushered into the elevator. “Peter always makes me do paperwork. El, did you know? Your husband. . He’s mean.” Neal ‘whispers,’ and leans against the wall for support.

“It can wait,” Peter answers simply. “And, I’m not mean.”

“He didn’t give me pizza.”

“You didn’t want pizza!”

“El, he’s shouting at me.” Neal pouts, closing his eyes and resting his head against her shoulder. She places an arm around him to keep him steady, biting against her bottom lip to keep in a chuckle. He’s clearly still sleepy, and somewhat delirious. Poor thing.

They manage to get Neal to the car in one piece, and Peter gets in the driver’s seat, whilst El sits in the back to keep an eye on their passenger. She glances at him, watching his teeth chatter and listening to him sniffle. He must’ve been feeling off all day, and the weather certainly can’t be helping anything.

“Neal?” She says softly, frowning as he flinches at the car engine starting up.

It takes a moment, but he looks at her, somewhat of a lucid gaze staring back.

“Tissue?” She smiles, offering him a packet that she had in her bag. He reaches for it, mumbling a quiet and stuffy ‘thanks,’ before plucking one out and holding it to his nose.

The rest of the car ride is mostly silent, with Neal resting his head against the cooling car window, and drifting off to sleep before they’d even left the parking garage building. Elizabeth and Peter exchange whispered conversation along the way, until they pull up outside their house and quietly argue about who has to wake Neal.

“But, he looks so peaceful!”

“He can’t stay in the car, he’ll get cold. C’mon.” Peter opens his door, and walks around the side of the car to let Elizabeth out.

She sighs, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. “Get the stove heated and the ingredients for tomato soup onto the counter, would you? I’ll bring him inside.” He nods, giving her hand a squeeze, before making his way up to their front door and unlocking it.

“Neal, sweetie?” She’s careful when opening the car door, aware that he’s leaning against it. “We’re here.”

The chill of the air outside is enough to wake him up with a start, looking around in confusion and taking a moment to gather his surroundings. “Elizabeth,” Neal murmurs. “This is. . . Not my apartment.”

“Nope,” she hums back, reaching in to help him undo his seatbelt. “You’re staying for dinner. Come on.”

It takes them a short while, but she manages to get Neal up and out of the car, into the house and up the stairs. She brings him a pair of sweatpants Peter never wears, so that he can at least tie them up to fit a little better, and a long sleeved plaid pyjama shirt to change into.

“I’ll be just outside the door, alright?” She leaves the bathroom door ajar, so that she can listen to make sure he doesn’t fall over whilst getting changed. Thankfully, it all seems to go smoothly, and El is soon helping him downstairs and onto the couch.

Covering him up with a blanket, and giving his hair a little ruffle. “Let me get you some Tylenol for that temperature of yours,” she tells him softly, making her way into the kitchen to check on Peter first.

She brings him back a large glass of water and two Tylenol pills, carefully handing them to him and telling him to ‘drink up, slowly.’

Neal does as he’s instructed to, grimacing at the feeling in his throat as the pills slide down. His head rests against the back of the couch afterwards in defeat, and he looks at Elizabeth with an expression that could break even the coldest of hearts.

“You really are sick, huh?” She says quietly, placing his glass down on the coffee table. “Well, I’m making soup as we speak. I’ll get Peter to come sit with you.”

Neal shakes his head.

“He won’t bite,” she teases. “He’s worried about you, y’know. But, keep that a secret between us, okay?” A smile crosses her features, before she turns and makes her way back to the kitchen.

Neal feels the couch cushions get a little heavier beside him, and opens his eyes to spy Peter now sitting beside him. He doesn’t have the energy to say anything, and it hurts his throat to even try. He simply blinks, sniffles, and closes his eyes again.

“Who would’ve thought it?” Peter begins, reaching to tuck the blanket around Neal a little tighter; noting him tense up, but relax a moment later. “Neal Caffrey, famous con artist, forger and art thief,, befelled by the common cold, of all things. Why couldn’t you have been sick when I was chasing you? Would’ve saved me a damn load of time.”

“Alleged,” Neal croaks, opening his eyes again to glare at his handler.

Peter laughs, reaching out to pat the poor man’s shoulder.

“I could still beat you if I had the plague.” He mutters next, hiding his face under the blanket. ‘Hh—xght.’ Another stifled sneeze, although not all that well this time.

“Bless you, and, I doubt that very much. Looking at you now, you couldn’t run anywhere. Not even to the bathroom, I doubt.”

Neal pops back up again, sniffling and glaring still. “You don’t know that.” He whispers, reaching for the tissue box on the coffee table; Peter handing it to him, so that he doesn’t have to leave his blanket.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna have pizza with us today? Or work with me?” Peter asks quietly, leaning back against the couch cushions and grimacing slightly at the noise of Neal blowing his nose beside him.

A long pause. “Are you sure you’re FBI?” Neal quips, his voice still as scratchy as sandpaper.

Before Peter can make a comment back, El’s coming out of the kitchen, holding a tray for Neal. “Homemade soup, comin’ right up!” She smiles, setting it carefully down upon the coffee table. “No pressure to eat a lot, just have what you can.” She reassures gently, handing him the bowl.

“Thank you,” Neal mutters quielty, and it’s only for a second, but El could’ve sworn she saw his eyes get a little teary.

They leave Neal to eat his soup, fetching their own bowls and taking a seat at the table. He doesn’t eat much, but the feeling of the warm soup against his aching throat is nice. The steam is nice too, and he simply sits there for a while with the bowl held up to his face, before putting it back on the tray and curling up into the blankets.

“Do you think anyone has ever done this before?” El asks, stirring her soup absent minderdly, as she watches over Neal ftom across the room.

“What? See Neal Caffrey act like a little, stubborn kid?” Peter retorts, picking up a piece of bread and taking a large bite.

El rolls her eyes, but there’s a fond look on her face as she shakes her head. “No,” she answers. “Take care of him. You know? He looked so. . . Shocked, when I brought him the soup. D’you think he’s always been alone in this sort of thing?” She considers, her own heart feeling heavy at the notion of Neal being all alone and unwell.

Peter falls quiet, dipping his bread into his soup for so long that it falls in. “Ah, crap—“ he mutters to himself, sighing. “You’re probably right. . He probably hasn’t been looked after. I don’t know much about his past, but I don’t doubt it was lonely.” He looks up at El, a sad sort of smile on his face.

“But, he’s got us now.”

•••

Neal wakes up two hours later, to the sound of the television on low volume, and quiet voices chatting around him. He blinks slow, looking around; Peter’s sitting on the floor in front of him, with Satchmo resting on his legs. Someone’s beside him, too. . . Must be El. Everything still feels heavy, but he doesn’t feel as shivery anymore. It still hurts to swallow, but feels a little less like knives now, at least.

“Neal,” a soft, female voice breaks his train of thought. Elizabeth. “How’re you feeling?”

It takes him a minute to answer, but opening his mouth to talk somehow becomes a cough instead, and the next thing he knows someone is handing him water. Oh, Peter. Peter’s kind to him. He takes a long drink, shakily passing it back and moving to sit a little better.

“Tired,” Neal answers, voice even more hoarse from lack of use during his nap.

“Do you want to go up to bed? Guest room is all set up for you.” Elizabeth offers, reaching out to gently rest her palm against his arm.

Neal thinks on it for a moment, scrunching his nose and trying to rid of the itch whilst he does so. A shake of his head; upstairs means being alone. Downstairs means being warm, and comfortable and with Peter and Elizabeth. It’s safe downstairs.

He moves a moment later though, and both Peter and El’s gazes immediately snap towards his direction.

“‘M just going to the bathroom.” Neal informs, trying his best to escape the entanglement of blankets without any help. . Failing miserably, and having Elizabeth help him unwravel.

He denies needing help, taking quite a while upstairs, before eventually re-emerging and taking each stair very slowly and one at a time. Peter decides that as funny this situation is, he doesn’t like it one bit. Neal usually bounds down the stairs, with the same energy as a golden retriever — and the cheerfulness of one too.

“You sure you don’t want to go to bed?” Peter asks, earning a frown from Neal as Elizabeth tucks him back in.

“You know. . .” El begins, giving Neal’s hair another little ruffle and passing him his water. “When I got sick as a kid, my Dad used to let me have a ‘couch bed’ night. He’d set me up on the couch downstairs, and we’d watch my favourite movies and drink hot chocolates, until I fell asleep. How about we do the same?” She suggests, smiling at the two men beside her.

A small smile forms upon Neal’s face, and he nods. A couch bed night sounds nice. He’s never had one of those before.

•••

El and Peter stay downstairs for the majority of the evening and into the night; Neal didn’t take long to fall asleep, and only woke up once, before the husband and wife made their own ways to bed, leaving the bedroom door open incase Neal needs anything during the night. Things seem to stay peaceful, until a thud from downstairs rouses El from her slumber, and she’s quick to shake Peter awake, too.

“Did you hear that?” She whispers, sitting bolt upright.

“No, but I guess it’s my problem now. .” Peter mumbles, still half asleep as he moves to sit up.

The sound of Satchmo whining confirms to Elizabeth that she didn’t wake up for nothing, and she’s already rushing out of the room and down the stairs before Peter can even plant his feet upon the floor. But, she wasn’t expecting to find Satchmo with his paws resting against Neal’s knees, and the quiet sound of. . . Crying?

“Neal?” Her voice is soft, so as not to startle him. “What happened? Are you hurt?” She crouches beside him, and Peter soon makes his way downstairs.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. . Neal, honey? Did you have a bad dream?” She reaches out, and he flinches away, not quite lucid enough to register their company.

A soft gasp falls from her lips, and she stands. “He’s burning. I’ll get some things, will you calm him down?” She reaches to give Satchmo a pat, and turns to make a beeline for the stairs.

A quiet sigh follows after that, and Peter takes a seat beside Neal. Unsure if he’s even lucid enough to understand him, he reaches out slowly to rub the other’s arm, in attempt to somewhat comfort. “You know I don’t do so great when people cry,” Peter keeps his voice quiet. “But, I’ll make an exception here; just this once.” He gives Neal’s shoulder a careful squeeze, painfully aware of how warm he is.

“She’s gone, Peter. .”

Ah, so is he somewhat aware of his presence.

“It was a dream, Neal. You’ve got a fever — it makes your dreams worse. You’re alright now.” He reassures gently, turning his head at the sound of his wife’s footsteps drawing closer again.

“Here, Neal. It’s for your temperature. Can you open your mouth, for me?” It takes a moment of repeating herself, but he eventually complies, and Peter reaches to switch on a lamp so that they can see better.

Neal’s shivering makes it so that he can’t keep the thermometer in place independently, so Elizabeth carefully holds it in place for him. A sympathetic expression is stuck upon her face, and she gently reaches to wipe away some of Neal’s tears.

“We’ll get you some medicine and you’ll be feeling less upset,” she reassures gently, removing the thermometer as it begins to beep at an urgent pace.

‘103.6.’ Is the reading on the screen, and she turns it around to show Peter. He gives a disapproving shake of his head (which is really out of concern,) and reaches to move Neal’s blanket. But, the sound of a tired sob and the weak grip of Neal’s fingers stop him.

“Alright, he can keep the blanket. I’ll get him some water for the Tylenol.” Peter mutters, wasting no time in fetching what they need and returning to Elizabeth trying to help Neal clean up his tear stricken cheeks.

Taking a seat beside him again while Elizabeth takes the almost empty glass from him, she watches as Neal begins to lean to one side, until he’s resting against Peter’s arm. “Y—you’re not gone?” The CI murmurs, sniffling as his teeth chatter togerher.

“We’re not gone, Neal. We’re right here. El’s getting you a cool cloth for your forehead.” He wraps an arm around him, carefully guiding Neal’s head against his chest to make him more comfortable. If this is where he’ll sleep and calm down, so be it. Peter can sacrifice a few hours of rest to help his friend.

The cool cloth is placed gently against his forehead, and both El and Peter stay with him until his shivering has dissipated and he’s fast asleep again.

“Never seen him like that before,” Peter whispers. “And I don’t ever want to see it again.”

Elizabeth reaches to take her husband’s free hand. “Think you can carry him to the guest room? No use having an FBI agent completely sleep deprived, and his CI with neck ache from sleeping like that.”

“I’ll have you know, I make a great pillow.” Peter whispers back, assessing the current situation for a moment. “I can carry him.”

It takes almost an hour, but Neal’s fever eventually goes down to a low grade one again, and they can all rest easy for the rest of the night. He’s safe in the guest room beside them, his congested snoring heard in the master bedroom. But, neither of the couple in the bed mind it. It’s a comforting reminder that he’s asleep.

#w/hite co/llar #sams write/s #n/eal is so cute I cry #sickfic #snz #snzblr #fevers #he’s so stubborn and an idiot and Peter is exasperated as usual

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