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“Eskel? I’m pretty sure I’m dying,” Jaskier called from his bedroom. Eskel sighed and looked at the kitchen clock—just past nine, and he knew Jaskier had a 9:30 class. He himself was lucky—no classes on Tuesdays—but he still got up at the same time each morning to keep a steady schedule.
“You’re not dying, Jaskier, you just have a hangover.”
“Nooooooo, I’m dyinggggg,” came the reply, muffled, as if Jaskier had stuck his head under the blankets.
Eskel sighed and turned the stove off. “Do you want breakfast or not?” he asked, heading into the bedroom, fully intent on dragging Jaskier out of bed if he had to. Not my job to babysit you, he always said, and yet he always found himself fussing over his idiot roommate—making sure he remembered to eat, making sure he got to class on time, making sure he didn’t drink himself into oblivion during a breakup (and that last one happened far too often).
When Eskel entered the bedroom, the first thing that struck him was how messy it was. Jaskier wasn’t the cleanest roommate ever—what college-aged guy was?—but this was truly a disaster zone. The bedsheets were half-off the bed with Jaskier’s legs tangled hopelessly in them, the wastebasket was overflowing with tissues, and Jaskier’s pajama pants had somehow ended up hanging from the ceiling fan.
“Jaskier. What is this?”
Jaskier took his head out from underneath the pillow, sniffed, and coughed. “I told you I’m dying,” he said, voice croaking. Eskel thought he might be playing it up, but couldn’t be sure. “I need cuddles immediately.” Okay, so definitely playing it up.
“Did you pick up a cold somewhere?” Eskel asked, walking over to place a hand on Jaskier’s forehead. It was hot, but not worryingly so. Some ibuprofen would kill a low-grade fever easily.
“I bet it was Valdo Marx,” Jaskier said viciously. “That’s exactly the sort of thing he would do, get me sick right before performance evaluations.”
“Yes, I’m sure he’s a master of biological warfare,” Eskel replied. “Now tell your professors that you can’t come to class today, and I’ll grab you some medicine.”
“Don’t need medicine. Need cuddles,” Jaskier insisted, sniffling again. He looked absolutely pathetic, lying there surrounded by tissues, face wan, and with the biggest puppy eyes Eskel had ever seen. “Please?”
Eskel sighed, but couldn’t stop a smile forming. Jaskier sure knew how to get what he wanted. “You definitely do need medicine. I’m not going to have you next to me radiating heat like a furnace.”
Jaskier lit up. “So you will?” he asked, excited as a kid on a holiday, and aw fuck, it was adorable and kind of sad how much he craved physical contact.
“Yes, we can cuddle, after you take medicine and drink something.” Eskel left and grabbed the pills, a glass of water, and his laptop, in case Jaskier couldn’t fall asleep. He came back to see that Jaskier had at least made an effort to clean up a bit, and had pulled his phone out, squinting at the screen. His tongue stuck out as he typed, which was cuter than it had any right to be.
Eskel placed the pills and water on his bedside table, catching sight of the screen as he did so—Jaskier had so far managed to type professr, im sick and neeed to stay home.. thans, jaskeir. His head must have been hurting him more than Eskel had thought.
He plucked the phone from Jaskier's hands, quickly correcting the typos, and then handed it back. “Scoot over.” He nudged gently at Jaskier's thigh until there was enough room to climb in bed with him, pulling the comforter over them both as he settled in and balanced the laptop on his lap. “Send that, take your medicine, and then try to take a nap,” he instructed.
Jaskier did so, grimacing only a bit when swallowing the pills, and obediently draining the glass when he was done. He set the glass back on the nightstand and immediately snuggled down into Eskel’s lap, throwing his arms around his waist and latching on like a starfish. If he were a cat, he’d be purring right now, Eskel thought. He placed a hand on Jaskier’s back and started gently rubbing circles. Jaskier melted even more, if that were possible, all the misery of being sick gone from his face.
Eskel had hoped that the snuggling would help him fall back asleep, and Jaskier seemed to want to sleep, but he kept shifting and fidgeting, eyes fluttering open and closed, sighing louder and louder until Eskel decided to put an end to it.
“Jaskier,” he said gently, “can’t sleep?”
“I’m trying,” Jaskier huffed, shoving his head deeper into Eskel’s lap as if that could help him sleep. “Sorry…”
“It’s okay. Want to watch a movie?” Eskel asked, combing his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. The creases in Jaskier’s forehead vanished at the first gentle touch, and Eskel noted with some pleasure that his temperature seemed lower.
Jaskier nodded, turning over so that they were shoulder-to-shoulder, but throwing a leg over Eskel’s to make up for it. Eskel pulled up Netflix and clicked on the first thing he saw, which happened to be Iron Man 3.
“Have you seen the first two?” Eskel asked.
“No, but it’s fine. The actor’s nice to look at anyway.”
Sure enough, Jaskier seemed suitably entertained by the action and humor. Once the film ended, Jaskier was still awake, so Eskel put the laptop aside and headed to the kitchen, heedless of Jaskier’s protests.
“You need to eat something,” he called. “Even if it’s just crackers.” He heated up some canned soup, grabbed a packet of saltines, and poured a glass of orange juice, taking the entire meal back into the bedroom with him.
Jaskier immediately cuddled back up to Eskel when he climbed back in bed, though he relented when Eskel handed him the bowl of soup. He forwent a spoon entirely, choosing instead to drink directly from the bowl, leaving himself with a tomato-mustache that Eskel was tempted to swipe off with his thumb.
“What are you looking at?” Jaskier teased him, and Eskel wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Instead he settled for running a hand through Jaskier’s messy hair, placing a strand behind his ear.
“You,” Eskel said simply.
“Nice try. I’m sure I look a fright,” Jaskier snorted.
“You look beautiful as always.”
“Stop,” Jaskier said shyly, blushing and scooting down in bed so that he could hide his face in Eskel’s stomach. Eskel chuckled and let him, combing through his hair soothingly.
Within minutes, Jaskier’s breathing evened out; he’d fallen asleep. Eskel let him nap, knowing that it would help him recover faster. And he would stay with him for as long as it took.