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“Jaaack,”
“Yes, Rhysie?”
“I’m siiick.”
Oh, lord, Jack had heard that line about twenty times already and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
“Pumpkin there’s not a lot I can do for you right now, kiddo.” Jack was in the middle of making his pathetically sick Rhys some soup and tea with honey. No coffee for his cupcake while he’s sick, no siree– not even with all his begging, cute as it may be.
“Aauughh…”
Jack only snorted in response.
“My head hurts,”
“Mm.”
“The light’s too bright,”
“That’s the sun, pumpkin.”
“…it’s too bright.” Rhys glowered, organic hand weakly petting one of their cats whom was perched in his lap keeping him company, Gortys. She was a cute calico, medium-length fur and a whole bundle of purrs and chirps.
Rhys was laid on their much-too-large-for-two-people, Jack couch in the living room, the tv on with the sound low. But Rhysie, think of the cats, they need space of their own too on it, Jack countered when they bought it.
Still in the kitchen, Jack was finishing up Rhys’ soup and made sure that and the tea weren’t too hot. But he’d let it sit on the table anyways for a few minutes to cool some just in case.
Meanwhile, Rhys was busy coughing up a lung and groaning when he was finally able to catch his breath. Gortys had gotten up and moved to the cat tree by the large window to birdwatch with Dumpy, their orange weirdo. Dumpling is his proper name, but Dumpy somehow happened one day and it’s stuck ever since.
“Alright champ, breakfast for the sickly coming up.” Jack chuckled.
“Shut up.” Rhys responded, but in his current state he was more amusing than mean. Jack set the tray down with his food and proceeded to settle in next to his Rhysie.
“Hold me.” He demanded. Jack could only snort and wrap his arms around the lanky body and pull him up on top of himself, grabbing the throw blanket and covering Rhys with it. “Dizzy,” He complained while Jack maneuvered them. It was easier to adjust him since Rhys’ cybernetic was off.
Rhys budged himself against the warmth of his husband’s body, shoving his face into Jack’s chest and huffing.
“Comfy?” Jack asked quietly.
“Mhmmn.”
A moment passed between the two.
“…You better not throw up on me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”