Chapter Text
You hate being sick.
You hate being unable to do anything because you lack the energy or your mind is far too gone due to your ailment- it also doesn’t help that at the first sneeze or cough, your boyfriend goes into full-blown nurse mode. Not that you mind, it could just go a bit overboard at times and you’d prefer if he’d let you at least grab a drink from the fridge, but instead he insists that you stay in bed and let him wait on your hand and foot. Which is sickeningly sweet.
...
Damn it, you’ve been talking to Wade too much…
Either way, your current predicament is a case of laryngitis which renders your voice almost useless. It’s frustrating, but Mark has been a great help. Thanks to him, you can already feel yourself getting better; your sore throat, while still present, is far less painful and your previously 102 degree fever is practically gone. The only symptom that persists is your ghost of a voice- to be honest, you were amazed how Mark knew exactly what you wanted without you saying anything for the past two days, so today, you’re eager to try and at least try talking to him. If your sore throat’s gotten better, that has to at least mean you’re not entirely mute anymore right?
You hope so.
Mark arrives at your apartment around noon and since he has a key, invites himself in already knowing that you are snuggled up on your bed most likely watching something on Netflix. Though, still being the gentleman he is, he knocks on your bedroom door before just barging in without warning, “(Y/n)? You up?”
Opening your mouth to speak, you try to call out that you are in fact up- but all that comes out is a hushed and strained squeak. You sigh at your failed attempt and simply hop up from the bed, instantly missing the warmth that the fuzzy blankets you burrito-ed yourself in provided, and opened the door with a soft smile along with a wave of your hand.
The lack of a response instantly reminds Mark how incredulous his question had been- albeit, he was trying to be polite and that’s what mattered. “Right, somehow forgot about the whole mute thing, how’s everything else?” He asks, curiosity swimming about in those pools of his and his answer comes in a double thumbs up, which his expression lights up at. “Good! How about I make you a nice hot cup of tea?” The ravenette doesn’t need to wait as the moment his offer meets your ears, you nod eagerly, causing a chuckle to bubble up in his throat, “Coming right up.”
As he disappears into your kitchen, you settle back into the warm bundle of blankets on your bed- instantly melting into pure joy, you may be sick, but this is the best way to be sick. Under a mass of fluffy and toasty blankets while your lovely boyfriend is off making you a warm cup of tea- what could be better?...
Or, at least given the circumstances, what could be better?
When Mark returns and sits on the edge of the bed, handing you the mug that is hot to the touch- you gratefully accept it and decide it’s time to try to use your voice again. A strong wave of determination washes over you and as you part your lips to speak, you hope that a proper and sweet ‘thank you’ manages to slip out.
However, you were not that lucky.
Instead, the moment you reached the ‘a’ in ‘thank’ your voice squeaks more than one of a middle schooler, and rather than continuing, you pout with a blush progressively taking over your cheeks.
Mark bites his lip and you can tell he isn’t trying to laugh, huffing, you turn towards him with furrowed brows, “Mark,” you try to scold, only for your voice to crack under pressure, and sickness, once again. It only gets worse as you try to groan due to your growing frustration but all the comes out is what sounds like a quiet, strained scream.
By this point, the ravenette beside has given up on hiding how humorous he finds the situation to be, his booming laugh echoing through your room and into the rest of the apartment. “What was that? Did you just try to groan?” He asks, though not really waiting for an answer as he continues to poke fun at your struggle.
“You sound like a dying squirrel! It’s so cute and funny, mainly funny, but still!”
Leaning back into your bed, you mope as Mark has his fun which makes you more and more hesitant to start talking again. Yet, it also makes you want to try even more to steady your voice in hope that it would put an end to his teasing.
And to prove that it’s not adorable, you decide to flip him the bird and attempt at saying, “Fuck you, Mark.” Though it seems as luck is not on your side as it’s just as worse than before. But to Mark, your pouty, angry expression paired with your frustrated squeaky voice is one of the cutest things he’s ever seen.
A drawn out ‘awe’ leaves his lips and soon a stream of laughter follows, “That was adorable! Oh, so cute, babe, just so cute.” He continues on, drizzling compliments on how adorably angry you are currently that adds fuel to the flame, making you far more flustered than before and you hide your face under the blankets in an attempt to block of his relentless teasing.
The moment you get your voice back, you’d be more than happy to properly repeat yourself to that most delightful and frustrating boyfriend of yours.