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A previously shattered leg had meant that Vernon Roche, much to Iorveth’s relief, would never fight on the battlefield again.
However, this had also meant that his anxious energy found itself a new outlet.
Saskia had requested the report at his convenience, and most people would have understood that that meant for them to take their time, but to Vernon this had translated into almost two all-nighters in two consecutive days. Iorveth had only been able to drag him to bed as the sun had begun to rise on the second night. Iorveth hoped this meant he would spend the next day sleeping.
He’d have to explain to Saskia that Vernon needed well defined deadlines, otherwise he’d push himself to be as productive as possible, to everyone’s detriment.
But that would be far easier to do without the likelihood of him popping in and insisting that that was in fact not what was happening. Iorveth sat down with his first mug of tea for the day, and his ears picked up on the faint but telltale thump of a bad leg and a cane.
This was apparently not going to be a today conversation.
It had been maybe two hours since he’d finally fallen asleep, and it was obvious. Vernon’s complexion had taken on the same sickly pallor that it had been when they’d fought in the forests of Flotsam. He sat down at the table and tried desperately to rub the deep purple rings out from under his eyes.
“Tea, en’ca minne?”
Iorveth wondered when exactly Vernon would retreat to his office and nod off.
Saskia had been the last one to find him like that, and he’d fallen asleep with his eyes still open. She’d shrieked assuming that he had dropped dead.
“Hmm, please.”
Iorveth hadn’t had the chance to add milk to his yet, so he handed it off to Vernon. And then he noticed his flushed cheeks and the heat radiating from his body. Iorveth nonchalantly pecked a kiss onto his lover's forehead and immediately took back the tea.
“Hey, no, no takebacks.” There was weak indignation in his voice.
“You can enjoy it in bed.”
“I have a meeting, I can’t go to bed I..”
Iorveth cut him off. “You have a fever. Va.”
As if to prove him wrong Vernon stood up, “I’m a human, I’m always warm.
Except, instead of proving that Iorveth was just fussing over him as usual, he found himself grasping to the edge of the table and swaying. Whether it was from the fever or from his leg, Iorveth wasn’t sure, but he pressed himself behind Vernon to give him the dignity of not falling flat on his ass.
“You’re gonna go lay down now, en’ca minne.” Vernon leaned himself heavily against him as they wandered back into the bedroom, defeated.
“My tea.”
Vernon crawled into bed.
“Uh huh, I’m gonna go get it now.”
Iorveth hoped that he’d be knocked out by the time he came back with his now cold tea. He gathered a rag and a small basin of water as well.
Vernon was definitely fine, but there was always the anxiety about his health, especially with each passing birthday spent together that lurked in the darkest corners of Iorveth’s mind.
Vernon was not asleep when he returned but instead laying underneath the covers, presumably with his arms crossed and pouting like a child that had just been put in time-out. He turned his head to look at Iorveth as he entered the room.
“You’re being overdramatic again. I’ll be fine after a nap.”
Iorveth sat on the bed next to him, brushing sweaty locks from off his forehead.
He was fairly sure there was more grey in them than even the last time that he’d ran his fingers through his hair, but that could’ve been a trick of the light, he’d humor Vernon on that one.
“You wouldn’t be sick in the first place, if you didn’t insist on overworking yourself.”
“It was important.”
“Mhmm, I know it was.”
Vernon drifted off to sleep.
---
He had been asleep now for a couple of hours, Iorveth brushed the backside of his hand across his forehead, it still felt uncomfortably warm. Vernon’s eyes fluttered back open at the touch.
“How was the nap?” Iorveth asked, teasing him.
Vernon yawned. “Not long enough.”
Iorveth dipped the rag into the basin of cool water and brushed it against his forehead, the fever wasn’t high, but he still wanted it to break sooner rather than later.
“Have you always been so fussy?”
“I don’t know, have you always been this difficult?”
“Yeah, probably. Vernon grinned, delighting in his difficulty. “You know, I don’t even think my mom got this worried about me when I was a kid.”
“Oh? Did you get sick a lot as a kid?” From what Iorveth knew about Vernon’s childhood it wouldn’t be too surprising.
“Not really, nothing serious. I got a lot of stomach aches though.”
Iorveth decided against pressing him further about it, he could almost certainly figure that it was due to hunger, or anxiety, or some awful combination of the two for a kid to have to go through.
“Hmm, poor thing.”
He dipped the rag back in the water, wrung it out and reached over to place it back on Vernon’s forehead. As he reached over, he felt an arm wrap against his waist.
Vernon was still deceptively strong, even if his wiry build had grown softer. The little bit of fat that now covered his body was more meaningful than any medal, it signified that he’d survived everything he’d been through.
He pulled Iorveth on top of him.
“Stop worryin’, I’m not goin’ anywhere anytime soon.” His voice drawled out, slum accent heavier than usual.
He supposed that he would have to take his word for it, for the time being at least.