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She coughed - a whole bunch of stuff junking up her throat - and she knew this whole situation would normally make her feel miserable.
Except she had her brother and a whole crew of people she’d had for three+ years she could rely upon to take care of her. She was going to be just fine, obviously.
She picked her game controller back up, and reminded herself that she was in good hands once more. Whatever Merle had given her was kind in nature, and that was more than she could’ve asked for…
Until she heard a *thwump* noise outside of the door.
Before she could react, she heard some scrambling - deeply regrettable scrambling - and then the familiar *click!* of the door down the hall.
“Oh!” She offered to absolutely no one in particular, obviously. “My, my! How strange that someone might leave something for me!“ Her usually strong voice cracking through the laryngitis, and threw the door to her cabin open-
Only to find nothing outside.
A heavy, hitching breath escaped her. She coughed again from the disappointment. Ouch.
He had clearly left something and then taken it back. As stuffed up as her ears were, she couldn’t have mistaken which door had shut after attuning herself to his habits these last few years. She was so tired and drowsy, but she wasn't imagining things...right?
She crawled back inside, slinging her fuzzy purple blanket back over her shoulders, very much defeated. She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up that he would be checking in on her like that.
Down the hallway, Barry threw his hands against his face, burying his eyes in his hesitant shame.
He pulled back and saw the gorgeous, thick fog out of his window hanging over their dock that late afternoon.
He remembered wishing she felt well enough to see it with him and everyone else.
His chest ached, hard.
-
“You know,” he said, matter-of-factly, as he twisted his fork into a sun-dried tomato that he hadn’t exiled from his salad just yet, “the last time you were sick, I tried to-“
“LEAVE ME SOME SOUP??” Lup interrupted, much too loud, scaring away a nearby seagull and notifying several other restaurant patrons that she was That Bitch™.
“Fuck,” he accidentally let out, throwing a cloth napkin over his mouth with his left hand and gently putting his right on her shoulder while trying to quiet his laughter.
“I knew it, Bear! I knew that you tried to take care of me! I was so, so sick! It's been over 40 years, and here we are on a sushi date next to a harbor-“
“Darling,” he said, giving the least amount of effort ever to stifle her, “I’m so sorry that I’ve left you wondering after all these years."
She cackled in delight. “I WAS correct! Okay, so how did it happen? Did you leave it and then run back to your door? Did you just throw it on the ground, realize you were having a soup problem, GATHER it back up, and then kidnap that broth boi and put yourselves both into lockdown in your quarters??” Her curls lunged forward as she accused him of stew crimes, but the tips of her smile insinuated sassy validation. The fire behind her eyes and her big, toothy grin made his chest tighten happily.
Gods, he loved that about her. He would never have enough of her, that much he was certain about.
“Listen, Lulu,” he gently offered, and she melted upon impact. Unaware of how pliable she was to his words, he continued, “I didn’t want to scare you. You were in a very vulnerable state, and that was absolutely not the time to present you with a homemade recipe from my mom. We just weren’t there yet. I'm sorry I chickened out, but I'm not sorry that we're having this conversation.”
He took her hand in his and squeezed. She squeezed back, her brain running through the options of how it could've turned out versus how long it took them to get together.
He’s right, you know, she reminded herself.
The sea wind whipped through his brown locks, and she carefully tucked one back into place, making sure that he noticed she was using the finger he had put a ring on just the evening before.
“It’s really dreary out today,” she said, not knowing how to respond to the fact that he tried to imbibe her with a family recipe almost right away. She really had been accepted by him immediately, hadn't she?
“It always reminds me of wanting to take care of you,” he said, taking her hand in his, making sure to emphasize that he was holding onto her finger with the new promise on it. “Fog always makes me want to see you more.”
She lifted his knuckles to her lips, and pressed a gentle and imperative kiss to them. His ears caught a bit of pink.
“Great news, Bear,” she reminded him, “you’re never going to have to worry about that again.”