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Eve thinks the worst part of love is caring.
Maybe it’s why she perceived herself as happy with Niko - A sort of mundane contentment in her confidence he could take care of himself adequately. She can count the number of times he was sick during their marriage on one hand. Eve tallies the times she actively had to nurse him back to health to… well, she can’t even pinpoint anything beyond an awkward pat on the shoulder and a glass of water before leaving for work in the morning.
Villanelle is an enigma though; Because as irritating it is to argue with her, Eve's heart scratches across the inside of her ribs with the desire to just help her.
“Hey,” Eve can feel herself growing tired, the late night has carried over into the early morning. The digital display of her alarm clock reads three-o-clock and the thermometer under Villanelle’s tongue beeps a worrying 102.8°F. Eve shakes a bottle of ibuprofen, “Are you sure you don’t-”
“No,” The younger woman bites, and the quickness of her answer is dulled with the rush of dizziness to her head as she moves to sit up; Villanelle’s features turn green with sickness, and Eve catches the honey-blonde of her hair to keep it out of the way as she quickly turns and loses her late-night dinner to the bin.
She spits after, and as if she didn’t just get sick mid-protest, continues it,
“-I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.”
Eve steps back. The room smells like sickness, sour with it thick in the air. Villanelle stripped down to her undergarments, and even those sick to her with the clamminess of her sweating.
Villanelle might not be letting up, but the fight to her argument is getting progressively less intimidating, “I never get sick.”
She is very very obviously sick.
Eve sighs, “Vill, honey,”
The older woman sits on the edge of the bed, and pushes the bin away but within reach, just in case. She places her hand on Villanelle’s burning forearm and her chest aches at the woman’s reactive flinch, “It’s okay to not feel okay sometimes.”
Villanelle swallows hard, and the difficult look to it could be from a sore throat she’s hiding or the little mist of tears clinging to her eyes as she dodges Eve’s drilling stare of concern.
She’s like a dog left out in the rain, unsure of how to accept help when a gentle hand offers it. Eve didn’t even know her hands were this gentle - she always assumed she was the least empathetic person and was sort of proud of her cold shoulder at times - but right now?
It feels oddly warm.
Who took care of you? Eve can’t help but imagine it, Villanelle alone in that annoyingly chic apartment. She knows the woman beside her had a rough childhood too. Villanelle doesn’t talk about it, she won’t give Eve that, and Eve respects her choice to not share that part of her life.
Did her mother kiss her forehead? You learn so many things as a child; Soup instead of solids, dress loosely and forgo the extra layers of blankets when the chills make your teeth shake. Does Villanelle even know how to take care of herself?
“Come on,” Eve urges, and she pats the bed as she lifts off it, “You need to wash up.”
The noise of disgust out of Villanelle’s mouth is congested, and she growls in contempt when Eve goes to pull her feet toward the floor.
“You stink,” Eve teases, and she runs her fingers through Villanelle’s messy hair as the younger woman sways in her sitting position, “It’ll make you feel better.”
“I feel fine,” Villanelle counters. Her bare feet curl on the carpet as Eve steadies her to stand up.
Eve’s lips pull tighter, and she pulls Villanelle’s arm over her shoulders to haul her to the bathroom.
“Sure, just don’t step on my feet.”
The lighting of the bathroom buzzes in her ears as Eve helps her undress. Villanelle closes her eyes against the harsh brightness of them, such a contrast from their dimly lit bedroom. Eve’s helping her undress, and Villanelle steadies herself on the older woman’s shoulders as she feels herself sway.
Eve pushes Villanelle’s underwear down to her feet, and she pats the blonde’s outer thigh encouragingly as she stands back up.
Eve eases two pills into her mouth, and they feel dusty on her tongue until a small cup of water helps her swallow them down.
“Are you dizzy?”
Villanelle’s eyes are still shut, and she doesn’t attempt to open them even though she can feel Eve watching her blotched face. Eyelashes brushing against her cheeks flushed red, and her lips parted to breathe through her mouth in necessity with her nose out of commission.
“No,” She lies. Her head swims. It feels like liquid, churning in between her ears and she lets the weight of it pitch forward to lean her forehead against Eve’s cold one. She admits quietly, “Yes.”
The tile of the shower wall is ice against her back, and Villanelle whimpers as she’s leaned against the smooth surface. Her shoulders are gently nudged back when they retreat from the uncomfortable sensation.
“Stay,” Eve’s voice is sympathetic, she rubs her palm down the length of Villanelle’s bicep, “I need to get undressed.”
Eve snorts when her sweater pulls off her head and she meets Villanelle’s blurry eyes for the first time since they’ve gotten in the shower.
“So now you woke up?” Eve lightens the mood.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Villanelle mumbles, and she squints again once it becomes too much on the pressure behind her temples.
“Come on, tough stuff,” Eve pulls her in a hug, and their naked fronts press together with a distinct difference in body temperature. Eve’s sneaky hand wraps around her waist, twisting the knobs until cold water starts pouring from the rainfall showerhead above both of them.
Villanelle yelps.
“Eve!”
Her fingers curl in Eve’s hair, anchoring herself as her breath is nearly pulled from her lungs with the sudden freezing assault.
“It’s warming up!” Eve assures her.
Mildly of course, but the lukewarm shower should help lower Villanelle’s fever until the medicine kicks in. Eve leans back and shuffles her hold on the squirming woman in her arms. Her palms steady Villanelle’s chattering teeth and she keeps her steady enough to look at her directly.
Wet hair turning dark on Villanelle’s shoulders, water running in rivets down into the middle of her chest. Her hazel eyes blink, softening from the shock.
Eve stands on her toes to press a kiss into the softness of Villanelle’s cheek.
“I’ll take care of you, okay?”
A pause, deep and meaningful. Shared between the two of them at an ungodly hour in the morning. Alone and quiet together, sharing intimacy in the way Villanelle’s chin rests in the support of Eve’s hands.
“Okay.”