Work Text:
You wake fitfully, pulled somewhere between the restless sleep holding you and groggy awareness. As your senses return, you notice the way your clothes cling to you as you roll. There is an unusual chill in the air and you try to place it as you drag yourself fully into consciousness.
You crack your eyes, trying to place what feels unusual this morning, and shift to slide out of bed. Before your head fully leaves your pillow, your stomach heaves a frightful lurch and you leave sleep behind entirely as you make a mad dash to the toilet.
There are a tense few seconds where you fear you won't make it, but luck is on your side and you throw open the lid just as your stomach upheaves completely. You groan and thank the Demon King himself you had a light dinner last night. You'd rather heave straight acid than have the unique cuisine of the Devildom make a reappearance.
As your stomach settles, you become aware of the violent shivers still wrecking your body. It seems the abnormal coolness around you isn't the room, but a fever. Groaning, you collapse onto the floor, more grateful than ever for the supernatural cleaning that occurs here in the Devildom. You don't think you could move from your position beside the toilet even if the space weren't sparkling from a recent scrubbing.
You shiver from your post on the cool tile, trying to decide how to go about retrieving your phone from your bedside to inform Lucifer of your illness. He may be strict about class attendance, but you know even he wouldn't expect you to go to RAD in your current condition.
Weak arms tremble beneath you as you attempt to rise, unsuccessfully. Sighing in defeat, you wait for the inevitability of one of the brothers coming to see why you failed to show at breakfast.
The wait is short, or you lost consciousness at some point, and you are roused by a rapid thumping at your door. You hope whoever it is will let themselves in. There is no way you are making it to the door. You can't even manage more than a whimper to alert your rescuer to your predicament.
After another round of knocking, the door creaks open and you hear Mammon calling your name softly.
"In here," you croak out and your stomach roils in protest.
With nothing left to come up, you end up shaking and heaving until your stomach settles again. The process leaves you distracted and you don't realize Mammon has joined you on the floor until you feel him rubbing soothing circles on your back.
Shuddering, you fall back into Mammon's touch and he gathers you with ease.
"Come on, Treasure. Let's get ya somewhere more comfortable."
He cradles you to his chest and moves back into your room. You protest weakly, worried about being so far from the safety of the toilet, but Mammon shushes you and settles you quickly into your blankets. He gives your pillows a couple of quick fluffs.
The action draws your attention to a large bowl by your bed that definitely wasn't there before. Mammon must have alerted the other brothers to your state because now that you are looking you notice multiple obviously gifted items.
There's some speciality crackers you know Beel has been saving for the next movie night. A soft-looking pink cloth resting next to a bottle of something you recognize from Asmo's room. You are sure there must be something from everyone but you can't see from your place snuggled on your bed.
Mammon grabs the cloth, running it across your forehead and down your neck. You sigh into the feeling of sweat and sick being washed away. The cool of the water feels lovely on your feverish skin and you lean into Mammon's ministrations.
Once he is satisfied that you're cleaned and cooled, he turns away. A pang of panic clutches your chest as you worry he intends to leave now that his work is done. You grab at his wrist and he turns back to you, eyebrows raised.
"Please stay."
You are not above begging and Mammon doesn't disappoint. With a soft grunt he shuffles you further into your bed and slides himself between the sheets. Lifting your head, he slides his arm under you and shifts you back to be flush with his chest.
You sigh, settling heavily into his warm embrace and allow your eyes to drift closed. Mammon stays with you, holding you and calming your feverish chills as you let sleep claim you once again.