Work Text:
“I’m freezing.”
“You aren’t freezing,” Belphie says, setting his hand on your forehead. He grimaces. “You’re boiling.”
Shivers wrack your spine. You hug the heavy comforter tighter to your skin.
As he thinks, he sighs and rubs his temples. Here you are, surviving despite this “flu” taking over. Belphie views you as someone weak to protect, yet in facing this virus, he is required to watch silently.
So, with trembling fingertips, he lifts the blanket, careful not to let too much cold air inside, and shifts beneath the sheets. The least he can do is snuggle you back to sleep.