Work Text:
A fever was not something you wanted to wake up to this morning.
A sickening warmth has overcome your body, the type of warmth that pulses deep in your head and makes everything haze. Appetite is something that’s been long gone, your skin is flushed red, sweat sticks uncomfortably to the back of your neck. If it were any other day of the year, you could have popped a pill, taken a stimulant or any other means of medical care Blackrock has available to its citizens, but unfortunately the only pharmacy in your district is closed for repairs. It’s not like you would have been able to afford the medications anyways. All in all this sits on the worse-end of things you’ve had to deal with this week.
But at least you’re not alone.
Hyperlaser sits beside the place where you’re currently curled up. Propped up on three pillows, there’s various blankets of all shapes and sizes thrown on to keep you from shivering. It’s a prison, or maybe a home. No matter which title you define it by, you can’t deny that it’s comfortable and soft; the many textures ranging from warm fuzz to smooth silken sheets get lost in a haze of ‘good.’ Or rather, it would be ‘good’ if you didn’t have a fever.
You have the feeling that you’re being watched and a simple glance to the side will provide a confident answer. Even with Hyperlaser’s tinted helmet obscuring his features, you’ve been acquainted with him long enough to understand what he’s expressing anyways. Every few minutes or so he’ll check your temperature or rub your shoulder to ease the pain. Hyperlaser’s care is nothing short of amusing. Some would say his behavior is uncharacteristic of him, but if anything, it’s the opposite.
Every time he’s assigned a bounty he always makes sure to arrive fifteen minutes early, his company locker is always clean, (a remarkable statement considering the Blackrock workplace has a higher chance of giving you an infection from all of the hazardous substances and smoke) and you specifically remember a time where you offhandedly mentioned your newfound allergies to Hyperlaser, only to find a box of tissues at your locker the next day. It’s the smaller things that struck you the most, quiet memories of caring about each other that built the chain of trust between you two. Something about the thought makes your heart squeeze just reminiscing on it.
After about the third rough, throat killing cough, Hyperlaser cocks his head towards you, helmet tilted ever so slightly.
“Your throat, does it still hurt? The painkillers should have kicked in by now.”
You shrug, unable to discern a difference in the general ache stuck in your chest nor actually conjure up your voice to speak. You feel like sleeping.
The mercenary seems to be despondent at your response, Staring at your wheezing from the confines of his helmet with an air of concern.
“Painkillers aren’t always the best option. I’ll try something else,” he says, leaving his place from beside you to stalk toward the kitchen. “ Kata- One of my friends always recommends I try making some mint tea with honey whenever I’m ill. He says it’s good for the throat. I’m not sure if that’s true or not considering he’s not the most reliable source when it comes to health, but there’s no point in not trying.”
From where you sit, you can see Hyperlaser pour some water into an old kettle and then drizzle a good amount of honey into a nearby mug. Thanks to Blackrock’s technology, only a few seconds have passed before the water has boiled completely. Hyperlaser makes quick work of finishing the rest of the steps and no time there’s a cup in your hand emanating a pleasant warmth.
He gestures for you to try it, so you bring the mug up to your mouth. Unsurprisingly it smells like mint. The liquid itself is tinted a rich yellow. You can’t remember the last time you had any drink other than the bitterness of black coffee (nobody has the time for sugar or creamer anymore.) Without wasting another moment, you take a slow sip of the drink, feeling its liquid comfort settle quickly into your stomach ...It’s tasty. You’re a little surprised at how easily it goes down and hastily go back for another drink.
Hyperlaser lets out a quiet huff of amusement —his equivalent to a smile— at your reaction to the tea. You make sure you mutter out a few wheezing-raspy words of gratitude for his kind gesture.
The two of you fall back into a comfortable silence. It doesn’t take long for the cup of tea to become empty, and somewhere along the line Hyperlaser has turned on the radio which has long since faded into white noise. You hazily grin as you stare at Hyperlaser’s antenna, watching the way it occasionally twitches in the air. You wonder if it’s just an added quirk of the helmet or if it’s something connected to his body, not unlike the curling tail of a cat. Sometimes you wonder if Hyper even has a face under there at all.
A hand snakes around the layers of blankets to fondle the edge of Hyperlaser’s blue collared shirt, urging him closer with slight tugs and squeezes of the fabric. Because it’s you, he relents, leaning himself towards your blanket-covered form with a soft sigh. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, the marbled burn scars poking out from underneath his collar and the bright glint of his helmet from here. Knowing Hyperlaser, you can bet that he finds no trouble picking out details about yourself from this close proximity.
A calloused hand finds itself intertwined with another.
It’s nice. You could live out the rest of your life like this.