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It was a rare occurrence when the Host was up before Dr. Iplier.
He was actually usually awake long before Dr. Iplier, but he was just loathe to get out of bed, perfectly content to curl around his sleeping beloved and listen to his deep breaths. But lately, ever since Dr. Iplier was shot, things have been quite different. Dr. Iplier was still dead to the world by the time the sun was high in the sky and even the Host was beginning to grow restless. It was unusual, but the Host wasn’t complaining.
He couldn’t really blame his dear doctor. In the first week since his injury, though the wound itself might be gone, he was still in serious pain. Magic was helpful, but it wasn’t a cure-all, despite what most people thought. It had its limits. The Host had tried his best, but in the end he arguably made things worse, essentially frying and jumbling Dr. Iplier’s nerves from the sharp transition from the agony of a bullet wound to nothing. As a result, Dr. Iplier had been prescribed some serious painkillers that had him out cold most of the day. And while the Host had missed talking with Dr. Iplier, he’d rather have him asleep and healing than awake and in pain.
But, recently, he’d been given a new prescription. Two new ones, in fact. The initial painkillers were far too powerful for him to be on them for long, so he’d been switched to some that he took before falling asleep to knock him out and give him a reprieve, and then less potent painkillers he took with breakfast in the morning that left him spacey and frankly hilarious to listen to. Though a spacey, drugged up doctor plus the crutches he needed to walk so he didn’t crumple like a Jenga tower didn’t exactly ease the Host’s nerves. The Host himself hadn’t gotten any work done since Dr. Iplier’s injury, too busy fretting and hovering by his beloved’s side so he didn’t hurt himself further. And though the visions building up in his head and threatening to spill out at any moment were beginning to hurt, the Host didn’t mind. It was worth it.
Especially for a moment like this.
The Host smiled softly, his arms wrapped around Dr. Iplier and his face buried in his hair as he continuously ran his thumb over the Braille on his promise ring. Dr. Iplier was using one of his arms like a pillow, curled into the Host’s chest much like a child and fisting some of his shirt in his hands. He was breathing deeply, warm and snuggled up against the Host, and very much still fast asleep. And the Host was not planning on moving till he woke up, the others or schedules be damned. Dr. Iplier needed and deserved his rest.
Still smiling happily, the Host pressed a lazy, lingering kiss to the top of Dr. Iplier’s head before turning to press his cheek to the same spot, sighing softly through his nose. The sun’s rays steadily filtered into their bedroom, warming the Host’s skin and God, this is why he never wanted to leave his bed, this was heaven. This was perfect.
Dr. Iplier shifted in his arms, and the Host lifted his head. “Mmm…” Dr. Iplier yawned, pushing against the Host’s chest and stretching before snuggling back even closer, burying his face against the Host’s throat and sighing happily.
The Host chuckled, the arm currently not pinned beneath Dr. Iplier coming up so he could tangle his hand in his hair, his fingers splayed out on the back of Dr. Iplier’s head. “Good morning, doctor.”
He felt Dr. Iplier crinkle his nose, shifting again. “Nnng…whatever. Hi.”
The Host chuckled again, gently carding his fingers through Dr. Iplier’s hair. “And how is Dr. Iplier feeling this morning?”
He felt Dr. Iplier’s leg twitch. “…My head feels like cotton candy. Maybe Wilford replaced my brain with cotton candy while we slept. I wouldn’t put it past him. He probably wants to harvest it tonight.”
The Host burst into surprised laughter, turning his head to muffle it in the pillows, and Dr. Iplier gave a loopy laugh himself, still pressed against the Host’s throat. He pulled back clumsily, knocking his nose against the Host chin and mumbling a quick “Ow,” before he slid a hand between the Host’s cheek and the pillow, his other hand cupping the Host’s other cheek, and he pulled him to face him. The Host struggled to contain his laughter as his Sight flashed and he caught Dr. Iplier narrowing his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, his pupils blown wide, and his lips drawn in an almost exaggerated pout. He squished the Host’s face slightly. “…Why are you so damn cute?”
The dam broke, and the Host burst into a fit of giggles, the hand that resided on the back of Dr. Iplier’s head sliding down to rest on his hip, his other arm still being used as a pillow. Dr. Iplier continued to squish and play with the Host’s cheeks, sounding apparently very frustrated. “Seriously! You’re fuckin’ adorable! Stop it!”
The Host’s shoulder shook as he laughed, pressing his and Dr. Iplier’s forehead’s together. Dr. Iplier squished his face again, and out of sole curiosity of the reaction, the Host pursed his lips like a fish. Dr. Iplier giggled madly, pressing a clumsy kiss to the Host’s puffed-out lips. “You have no right to be as fuckin’ cute as you are, I swear to God. Even when you’re all bloody, I just wanna grab your face and smoosh you. Is this what it feels like to be a grandmother? Am I grandma now?”
The Host couldn’t help but laugh harder at the distress creeping into Dr. Iplier’s voice, unable to get words out as Dr. Iplier at last dropped the Host’s face in order to smack his shoulder. “Hey! Don’t laugh! You adorable prick!”
“The…the Host a-apologizes,” he managed to wheeze out, grip tightening slightly on Dr. Iplier’s hip. He pressed a quick kiss to Dr. Iplier’s cheek, smiling broadly against his skin. “Has Dr. Iplier considered that the Host feels the same way?”
Dr. Iplier gasped. “About being a grandma?”
The Host choked on his laughter. “No, n-not that. About Dr. Iplier being excruciatingly adorable.”
His Sight flashed again to see Dr. Iplier’s face rapidly flush red. “…Shut up.”
The Host chuckled, kissing Dr. Iplier’s forehead. “The Host is literally incapable of that. Now if the Host could have his arm back, he can get up and get both himself and Dr. Iplier ready.”
Dr. Iplier immediately rolled over to cling to the Host’s arm – which had long fallen asleep at this point. “No! It’s mine now. Fuck off!”
The Host just laughed.
(While Dr. Iplier’s injury may be stressful for the both them, it was moments like these that made it so much better.)