Monthly Bonus Content #2—Felix Version (Patreon)

The inside of my head whirls until I wonder if my brain might be so sloshy it’ll start seeping out of my nose.

Why not? Everything else seems to be coming out of it. I would laugh at my own joke if my throat didn’t feel like it was made of sandpaper.

I roll my head over to look at Felix sat beside me on the bed. He stares at the TV, the colours flashing and blinking in his wide eyes, his lips parted in silent awe.

“You know, you don’t have to stay here with me while I look like this,” I say, though my chilled fingers wrap around his arm even I suggest it.

He looks to me with a brow arched. “Babe, you look like you always do. A bit snotty and sweaty, but still absolutely gorgeous.” His kiss on my forehead helps quench the fever, the momentary relief allowing me a second to relax.

“I didn’t realise I was that gross,” I splutter through a cough.

He passes me a tissue. “You’re sick. You’re supposed to be gross. Well, from what I’ve heard. Obviously not experiencing any kind of illness, I wouldn’t know myself.” He grins at me with a wink.

I nudge my shoulder into his. “All right. Show off.”

He tugs me closer against him, glancing across me to the side table. “You didn’t touch any of your soup.”

“I didn’t feel hungry.”

“I spent minutes of my life in front of a microwave warming that for you,” he says with a pout.

I manage a smile of my own, even if it makes my cheeks ache. “Would you have warmed it in a double boiler if I’d asked?”

He kisses my cheek this time, once again providing a euphoric second of relief from my symptoms. “For you, I would have made it from scratch.”

I chuckle, then hack out a cough.

He rubs my back as I hunch forward, and I suck in as much of a breath as I can manage, not enjoying the crackling sensation against my throat as I do.

“You all right, babe?” he asks, worry catching at the edge of his question.

I flop back against my pillows with a groan. “Not at the moment.”

“Then lay with me until you are.” He snuggles down beside me, his hand on my thigh and the other wrapped around me.

I puff out my cheeks and shrug. “That could be days.”

“Then I’ll stay for days,” he promises, leaning his head against my shoulder and kissing my neck.

I almost feel the fever break right then, my chest expanding with clear air at his touch, my brain clearing of its fog.

“Plus, you being ill gives us a legitimate excuse to laze about in bed together until you’re better.” He grins, a flicker of mischief making his eyes bright.

I cock my head to the side. “Are you just using it as an excuse to watch TV?”

He picks up the remote and flicks off the screen. “As if that thing could hold my interest when you’re right next to me.”

Warmth bubbles in my chest…and brings on another bout of coughs.

“Aw babe. Come on, eat your soup and let me pamper you.”

We settle down together again, and I pull the soup over to give it a taste, letting the liquid soothe my throat.

“It’s good,” I croak.

“Of course it is. I made it for you.” He half shrugs. “Well, you know. I warmed it.”

I gaze at him as he smiles so brightly and warmly at me, and I realise I don’t need to soup at all. He’s the only cure I need.