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It’s no secret that Mindy Lahiri loves rom-coms. Really, really loves them.
She’s seen Pretty Woman, like, twelve times, Notting Hill at least eighteen (what can she say, Hugh Grant is textbook dreamboat), but her favourite by far is Bridget Jones' Diary. There’s something extra magical about it- not just because it’s one Hugh Grant is in, but also because Bridget is relatable in ways other movie protagonists aren’t. Mindy isn’t a movie star. She isn’t a model. She isn’t a hot young woman tasked with interviewing an attractive CEO (yes, she’s watched Fifty Shades).
She is, however, awkward. Paranoid of gaining weight. Occasionally neurotic.
Just. Like. Bridget.
She tries to explain this all to Cliff before she puts it on, but as sweet as he is, bless him, he’s also way too sick to actually take anything in, let alone respond coherently. It’s why she was able to coerce him into watching a rom-com with her in the first place.
He’s bundled up on the couch beneath a blanket (she had given him two, but one was fleeced and the texture was not Cliff Approved™), eyes red-rimmed, nose flushed with irritation. Despite the scarlet tinge to his cheeks and the numbers on the thermometer indicating a pretty nasty fever, he’s shivering like he’s freezing. The sight almost makes her feel bad for insisting he only wear a grey tee and the flannel pyjama pants she bought him, but her medical expertise does not.
“You okay?” she asks, settling in next to him as the opening credits start to play.
Her only response at first is a sneeze muffled into a tissue and the shudder that ensues, but after a few seconds he nods. “Mhm.”
She furrows her brow, reaching up to brush the sweat-damp hair from his forehead. He shivers at the touch. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so crappy, hon.”
“S not your fault.” He replies, voice thick with congestion.
Mindy cards her hand through his curls, sighing, because technically it is her fault. At least, she thinks it is. Cliff’s prone to picking up any illness that’s going around, so there’s no knowing for sure why he’s sick at any time, but she’s 99% sure the pregnant woman with the horrible cold who sneezed all over her at work is the reason for her boyfriend’s current situation.
“Still. Colds are no fun, especially for you, sweetheart. You seem to get the worst of them.”
He murmurs sleepily. Shrugs.
“Just try to relax, alright? And try to enjoy the movie.” Just as he opens his mouth to respond, she interrupts him with a smirk. “Yes, I know it’s not Blue Planet-“ He glares half-heartedly at her. “But it’s, like, a huge comfort movie for me, so I’m hoping it’ll do the same for you.”
Thankfully (and just as expected) he’s too exhausted to be anything but acquiescent. He groans lowly and settles his head against her shoulder, rubbing his hair against her neck until it tickles and she laughs, at which point he laughs, which only causes his lingering cough to start back up again. She reaches beneath the fabric of his shirt to massage circles into his back until at last it subsides, and he sinks back, nose nuzzled in the crook of her neck so that his gentle breaths chuff against her skin.
The first few minutes of the movie go by without much comment aside from Cliff’s relentless sniffling. If he weren’t feeling so miserable, the sound of it during her favourite flick would piss her off, but as it stands she can’t help but sympathise for him. Plus, she supposes it was her idea.
When Daniel first appears on screen, she giggles a little too girlishly, and Cliff groans.
“This... this is y’r... f-fantasy man?”
Mindy grins. “You say that like I can’t feel your pulse, Gilbert. I guess there are two Hugh Grant fans in this household.”
He harrumphs. “M sick... ‘s why my heart’s racing.”
“Why it’s racing way more than it was before Hugh Grant was on screen?”
At this, Cliff only murmurs something nasal and unintelligible that sounds vaguely like an admission of guilt. Mindy laughs and kisses the top of his head, because really, the fact that they share a celebrity crush just feels like another reason why he’s her soulmate and best friend.
He speaks up a little more, however, once Mark makes an entrance- albeit for a different reason.
“Mark Darcy?” he slurs, breaths tickling her neck. “He’s... he’s Mr Darcy? Like- like in Pride n’ Prejudice?”
“Mm. I thought I told you, it’s a kind of adaptation.”
He turns, brow furrowed, and the back of Mindy’s hand moves instinctively to stroke against his cheek. “You absolutely did nnott...”
She grins, tilting her head. His flushed cheeks make him look adorable when he’s pretending to be mad at her. “What does it matter?”
With a sigh, he settles back against her, his warmth a comforting weight. “Mm... nothing, I s’pose. Jus’... jus’ know wha’s gonna happen now.”
She blinks. “You do?”
“Mm... I guess... D-Daniel’s a... he’s like the- the Bingley, right?”
“Um... yeah? I think? I don’t know, I last watched Pride and Prejudice ages ago.”
Cliff sits up quickly, blanket cape wrapped around himself, staring at her like she just said something wildly offensive. It’s difficult to take him seriously, his hair sticking up at all angles and sporting the biggest case of Rudolph-nose in recorded history, and the fact that he’s swaddled himself like an infant isn’t helping her to suppress her laughter.
“W-what?” she manages.
He shakes his head, sniffing. “Watched... th-that’s an insult to Austen, Min.”
She chuckles. “Come on. The 1995 Mini Series was great, and the 2005 movie was pretty good, too.”
With a beleaguered sigh, he resumes his position leaning against her, head tucked in the crook of her neck even as he grumbles defiantly. “B-book’s even b-better.”
In spite of herself, her stomach flutters a little. “You’ve read it?”
“Mm... p-prefer Persuasion, though... Wentworth-“ He’s interrupted by an irrepressible yawn. “- W-Wentworth was... l-less of a dick.”
“Y-yeah?”
“Mhm... I am h-half agony, half hope. T-tell me not that I am t-too late, that s-such precious feelings are gone forever. I o-offer myself t’you again with... with a heart even more y-your own than when you a-almost broke it... e-eight and a half years ago. D-dare not say that m-man forgets sooner... sooner than woman, that his l-love has an earlier death. I... I have loved none b-but you.”
His voice is a little scratchy, his words thick with congestion, and yet Mindy is convinced she has never been more attracted to Cliff Gilbert in her entire life. When she leans forward to look at him while he recites the quote, apparently from memory, his eyes are closed like he’s half-asleep.
“Woah... how the hell do you remember all of that?”
Cliff smirks, opening his eyes slightly. They’re hazy with cold medicine. “R-read it a lot. My favourite book besides... besides the- the one on sea creatures m’ grandma gave me w-when I was little.”
With a little disbelieving laugh, Mindy rests back against the couch and lets Cliff get comfortable again. It feels like she learns something new about him every day. The fact that he’s a lover of classic literature shouldn’t surprise her as much as it does.
When the twist rolls around just as he predicted, of course, Cliff looses a mildly triumphant murmur of "T-told you. Bingley... Th’audience thinks he’s- he’s the good guy but he’s... he’s actually n-not.”
Mindy strokes his hair, smiling warmly. “Sounds like someone’s invested.”
He groans a little, but doesn’t contradict her. This, she can firmly say, is something she isn’t surprised about in the slightest. Cliff has always struck her as an avid romance lover, and even if the only way to get him to enjoy a rom-com is to have it be related to Jane Austen, it’s a win in her eyes.
His interruptions grow less frequent as the movie continues, while his shivers grow a little more violent. She pauses it when he looses a small whine of discomfort, burrowing his nose into her neck, and pulls the blanket tighter around him.
“Hey, sweetheart. You feeling bad again?”
He nods, muffling a cough into his elbow as tears spring to his eyes. “J-just so c-cold.”
Mindy frowns sympathetically, the fingers that had drifted to his cheek stilling against burning hot skin. “Aw, hon. I think maybe you need more meds, huh? Feels like your fever’s spiking.”
When she moves to stand up, though, his arms tighten around her waist.
“Nooo... don’... don’ go.”
She sighs. “I’ve gotta get you your meds, though, babe. You won’t feel better without them.”
“Min...”
“I’ll be literally ten seconds, hon, I promise.”
“O-okay.”
True to her word, she’s back from the kitchen with the bottle of pills and some water to hand in a matter of seconds. Cliff clings back onto her the moment she sits down on the couch, and the realisation of just how warm he is encourages her to get him dosed up as quickly as possible. Once the pills are down (easier than usual thanks to her boyfriend’s urgent desire to feel better), she slips the thermometer from the coffee table in his mouth too, holding it in place as he looks up at her with glistening eyes.
“102.1” she reads, retrieving it from him and letting him sag bonelessly against her. “It definitely went up.”
He shudders, closing his eyes. “Was- was 101.5 last time- last time we checked.”
“Yeah, I know. Those meds’ll kick in soon, though, hon.”
“What if they don’t? I’m- I’m tired of f-feeling sick, Min.”
She hears the warning tremble in his voice, and presses her lips to his too-hot forehead. If she isn’t careful, he’ll get himself wound up, and the dehydration from crying is the last thing he needs right now. “Shhh, sweetheart. I know. You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”
He relaxes a little beneath the contact. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re gonna be alright, sweetheart... Want me to put the movie back on?”
He nods, sniffing wetly.
It doesn’t take a genius to know when the cold meds start to take effect. His shivers start to subside, the weight of his head against her shoulder increasing as he’s able to relax properly, the drowsiness at last getting the better of him. Despite it all, though, he fights to stay awake, eyes fixed blearily on the screen right the way up until the credits roll. Admittedly, by that point it’s hard to know whether ‘awake’ is an accurate word to describe him. His eyes are still open, sure, but he’s breathing deeply and rhythmically like he’s asleep. Drooling a little like it too.
“What’d you think?” she asks gently, rubbing an arm up and down his shoulder.
“Mmmmmmmmmm.....”
She laughs. “Good mmmmmmm?”
He sniffs. “Mhm. Can... can watch th’ next one.”
“The second movie?”
He nods.
She smiles, filled with so much love she can’t help the almost aggressive way she kisses him on the cheek. “I love you, you know that? So much.”
“Love... love you too.”
“I think... I think I get why you like watching Blue Planet with me now. It’s like, cool to share the things that you love with the people you love. Makes you feel more connected to them. Even if David Attenborough’s voice is boring. I think... if it makes you happy, I’ll always be willing to watch the whales with you.”
“W-whale...”
When she glances over at her boyfriend, she snorts. His eyes are heavy-lidded, so clearly gone from meds that it’s a miracle they’re even open, and judging by the way he appears to have only picked up ‘whales’ from the entirety of her little speech, it won’t be long before he’s fast asleep.
She runs a hand through his hair. “You wanna watch the whales?”
Languidly, and still sniffling, he nods.
“Alright. We’ll watch the whales together.”
Closing Bridget Jones, she flicks along through ‘My List’ a few times until she lands upon Blue Planet, the red bar already lingering somewhere near halfway through from the last time she’d put it on for him. It used to be that she had to exit her profile and log into his in order to find it, nestled amongst the endless nature documentaries he loves so much, but now things are serious between them, it feels only right that it sits pride of place on her profile too.
The moment she presses play, the living room is lit up an aquatic blue and whalesong drifts from the speakers. Mindy’s eyes flit to Cliff’s, watching the way his widen momentarily, the majestic creatures reflected in the pools of his pupils as his dozy gaze follows the flicking of their tails.
It isn’t the same as Bridget Jones, but... she gets it. Kind of. Her lips move to brush softly against the top of his head, still resting perfectly in the crook of her neck.
It’s true- she’ll always be willing to watch the whales with him, now that she knows what it’s like.
Especially when she can watch them through the reflection in his awe-filled eyes.