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When Nie Huaisang tucked into bed with Lan Xichen, he hardly noticed the tickle in his throat. He chalked it up to a piece of dust that he must have inhaled on his flight to the Cloud Recesses and put it out of his mind—he didn’t have time to pay attention to a little discomfort like that, not when he was preparing to spoil his lover silly for his birthday the next day. It wasn’t even enough of a problem to interrupt the long, slow kisses they shared before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Next morning found Nie Huaisang with considerably more of a problem. He blinked his eyes open blearily, watching the ceiling spin around. That couldn’t be right, could it? He swallowed and winced—his throat felt like sandpaper, scratchy and swollen.
Ok, maybe he felt a little under the weather. Just a bit. It wouldn’t be a problem. He wouldn’t let it be a problem.
As he’d hoped, he’d managed to wake up before Lan Xichen, and he forced himself up to get dressed. This was easier said than done—his limbs didn’t want to cooperate, and the spinning only got worse as he stood. Eventually he managed to drag his clothes on and do his hair, though he felt as drained as if he’d just climbed every tree in the Cloud Recesses. He took a second to breathe, touching his cheeks to feel their flush. Maybe he just needed something to eat and he’d feel better. He wasn’t sick on Lan Xichen’s birthday, he just wasn’t. He had to go to the kitchens and pick up some breakfast to bring back to the Hanshi, he had to serve Lan Xichen his favorite foods and cater to his every need.
But just as he was about to drag himself out the door, Lan Xichen groaned and stretched, rolling over to face Nie Huaisang with a sleepy smile.
“Good morning, Xichen-ge!” Nie Huaisang croaked, leaning against the doorframe. Speaking was a little painful, but that wasn’t a big deal. He could handle it. “Happy birthday! Stay right there, ok? I’ll be right back with breakfast.”
Lan Xichen propped himself up on one arm, stifling a yawn. “Thank you, Huaisang, but is everything all right? You don’t sound so good.”
“I’m fine, love. I just have a little frog in my throat,” Nie Huaisang told him. “Don’t worry, I won’t let it ruin our plans.” He waved a little and started to shuffle out the door.
But before he could even clear the threshold, Lan Xichen had leapt out of bed and hurried over to his side, grabbing his forearm and supporting his waist.
“Huaisang, I’m not letting you go out like this!” Lan Xichen scolded. “You’re obviously sick, you have to go back to bed.”
“Xichen-ge, I’m fine!” Nie Huaisang rasped, trying to struggle free. “You’re the one who has to stay in bed until I can get you some breakfast! You have to have breakfast in bed at least once in your life, it’s the rules.” Not the Gusu Lan sect rules, obviously, but his point stood.
“At least let me check your temperature before you go wandering about,” Lan Xichen insisted. Nie Huaisang hesitated for just a second, which was all the time Lan Xichen needed to pull him close and press their foreheads together. Nie Huaisang was shocked at how cool Lan Xichen’s skin felt against his own. “As I suspected. You’re burning up,” Lan Xichen told him.
Nie Huaisang groaned a little, but it hurt to groan, so he stopped quickly. “That’s embarrassing,” he whispered. Cultivators weren’t supposed to get sick—sect leaders even less so. His golden core should have taken care of most illnesses, but he supposed that whatever he’d caught had been too strong for his pitiful excuse for a core. At least Lan Xichen was safe. His cultivation was so high that he hadn’t caught so much as a sniffle in the forty-odd years they’d known each other.
Lan Xichen walked him over to the bed, and Nie Huaisang was powerless to resist him—their difference in strength was obvious on a good day, but like this, Nie Huaisang may as well have been a newborn kitten in Lan Xichen’s arms.
“I’ll get us something to eat. Soup for you, I think,” Lan Xichen said as he lowered Nie Huaisang to the bed and kneeled to take off his boots. “When I get back I’ll stay with you and give you some spiritual energy. We’ll have you back on your feet in no time.”
“But it’s your birthday,” Nie Huaisang whined. “I had so many plans for today, you can’t just stay here and play nurse instead!”
Lan Xichen huffed out a little laugh—justified, as Nie Huaisang had sounded dramatic even to his own ears—and pushed Nie Huaisang until he was lying down. “If it’s you, I don’t mind playing nurse,” he said. “For my birthday I want to spend every second I can with you, even if you’re sick.”
Nie Huaisang felt himself melt a little, and he didn’t protest when Lan Xichen tucked the blankets up around him.
“All right,” he relented. “But you have to let me spoil you another day to make up for it. Promise.”
“Ok, I promise.”
“Actually, I’ll probably owe you more than one day. How about a week?”
“Get some rest, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, impossibly fond. He smoothed Nie Huaisang’s hair away from his face. “I’ll be back soon.”
Nie Huaisang watched him leave, and only closed his eyes when Lan Xichen had shut the door behind him. This hadn’t been in the plan, and he felt terrible for ruining the day, but… if he had to be sick, he couldn’t deny he was glad it was Lan Xichen taking care of him.