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“I’m dying,” Shadow groans from their stolen couch in the den. He’s spread out in every direction, feverish and uncharacteristically warm, hugging a throw pillow to his chest like it’s his final tether to the material world. “Vio,” he calls towards the kitchen, “these are my last words. You’re missing my last words.”
Vio rolls his eyes and removes the kettle from the stove, pouring the hot water into Shadow’s favorite mug. He scoops loose lemon ginger tea into an infuser, which he then dunks into the mug, and carries the beverage dutifully into the den.
Shadow looks at him with wide eyes. “You’re my hero.”
“Shut up,” Vio says, placing the mug down on a coaster and gently shoving Shadow so he can fit on the couch beside him. He’s as limp as a ragdoll, which freaks Vio out more than he’d like to admit—and he won’t admit it, not even a little bit, because his pretend-chill is the only thing keeping Shadow from believing he’s about to meet the Goddess Hylia herself the next time he sneezes.
Shadow stares him down with those pathetic puppy-dog eyes, and Vio knows immediately that distance isn’t an option. He sighs and opens his arms.
“I don’t want to get you sick,” Shadow protests, although he’s already shifting in Vio’s direction.
“It’s okay. Come here.”
Illness is a foreign concept to Shadow, who told Vio earlier that day that he had never been vulnerable to such conditions in his previous dark form. And Vio only possesses one-fourth of the Hero’s immune system, meaning whatever Shadow has, he’s bound to also catch eventually. At least if they’re both sick, they can deal with it together.
Shadow hums as he presses himself up against Vio’s chest, the smallest hint of a smile on his face. “My head hurts,” he says, trying to burrow into Vio’s soft purple sweater. Vio cups Shadow’s cheek and guides him to meet his eyes. He certainly looks unwell, especially up close, and Vio can feel the clamminess of Shadow’s hand as he grips it.
“Do you think you can drink some of the tea?” Vio asks, brushing Shadow’s hair out of his face.
“Don’t want to move. Comfy here.”
Vio appreciates his honesty. He slides his hand out of Shadow’s and reaches towards the coffee table, leaving the other to rub soothing circles onto his back. He’s glad he only filled the mug only three-fourths of the way as he carefully brings it to Shadow’s lips.
“Lemon ginger,” Shadow says with instant recognition. “You’re so smart.”
“You taught me everything I know—about tea, I mean. I know a lot of other things from books.”
“Always so humble,” Shadow teases before taking a long final sip. “Okay, yeah, that’s good. Thanks.”
“Still feel like you’re dying?”
Shadow pulls Vio down by the back of his neck, bonking their foreheads together. “I’ve already died in your arms once, Vio, I don’t intend to do it again.”
“Drama queen,” Vio says, flicking Shadow’s forehead.
“Nerd,” Shadow fires back, sticking out his tongue.
And there’s no way Vio is walking out of this interaction illness-free, so he might as well enjoy himself while still in good health. He’s sure he’ll be a nightmare for Shadow to deal with when it’s his turn to be sick—in fact, he almost looks forward to it.
“I love you,” he tells Shadow, and it’s a phrase he thinks he’ll never get tired of saying. “You do know you’re going to be okay, right? This is all very normal for a Hylian.”
Shadow manages the tiniest of grins. “I know. People get sick in the Dark World, too, dummy. I just like having your full attention.”
Vio’s eyes widen as the truth sinks in. “But you told me that—”
“I mean, I am sick. My head hurts like crazy. But I know I’m not dying, and I’ve been ill before. Never had a loving boyfriend to take care of me, though, so can you really blame me for committing to the bit?”
Of course Vio doesn’t blame him—the majority of the things they’ve done together could be described as committing to the bit.
“I love you, too,” Shadow adds, a tinge of insecurity in his voice. “And you can’t be mad at me, because… I’m sick.” He adds a little cough for good measure, just daring Vio to question its legitimacy.
Vio shakes his head and smiles, giving Shadow a chaste peck on the forehead. It’s the safer option, after all, and Vio is all about safety—but then again, he’s also about Shadow, and maybe that’s why he always finds himself in positions like this.
He just can’t resist a good bit.
Vio kisses Shadow and Shadow kisses him back, the taste of lemon and ginger still lingering on his lips.