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The toilet leisurely flushes away the aftermath of you retching out the last remnants of fluid still inside your body, leaving you tired and miserable on the cold tile. An awful stench hung in the air, sticking heavily to your pale skin. Wiping away the liquid from your mouth, you trudge back to your shared bed. In other news, Durr burger was officially at the top of your shit list. What started out as a mild stomach ache quickly turned for the worst as you nearly made it to the bathroom before all hell broke loose. That was just the beginning of your misery. Despite the other agents eating the same processed garbage, It seems as though you were the only one struck down by the nightmare of food poisoning. How lucky. Thankfully, Midas was spared from the internal Armageddon, calling off the entire day of rigorous training so he could assist you. This mostly involved emotional support and the occasional drug delivery, bringing you various meds from Remedy's vast supply. It was small acts like these that made your pain a bit more bearable.
The bathroom door opens with a gentle swish . Stepping out, you're greeted by a very concerned Midas to your left. It was always silly; seeing the man who tried to show so little expression actually display those feelings. So many people saw him as a modern day boogeyman, but you got to see a much softer side of him.
He'd gotten out of his usual fancy attire, opting for a pair of boxers instead. He clutches a cup of water in his hands, along with more pills. Earlier today, Remedy had given him various medications for your condition, each one working with varying levels of success. Upon your slow crawl out of the bathroom, Midas rushes over to you, placing a free hand on your forehead. It's freezing, but feels rather pleasant against your burning skin.
“I do hope this passes soon, dear. You look abhorrent.” he says. You give the man a half smile.
“You and me both.” You reply, taking the glass and pills from his hand.
“I told Remedy about your worsening symptoms and how the other medications weren't working. Hopefully, this will do the trick.” Midas places his newly freed hand on your back, slowly guiding you back to bed. You pop the pills into your mouth, taking a swig of water to wash them down. You prayed these would actually work. Poor Remedy must be tired of Midas barging into her clinic, yelling about his partners stomach ache. You Make a mental note to apologize to her once this settles down.
Upon reaching the bed, you flop down into the silk sheets, groaning. All you wanted to do was sleep, but the constant stomach pain and nausea kept you from your goal. Thankfully, the medicine seemed to be working already. The painful tension in your stomach was slowly loosening, allowing you to finally take a sigh of relief.
“Better?” Midas asks, pulling the sheets down. They'd have to be washed once this ordeal was finished. Knowing Midas’ germaphobia, he might just buy a whole new set.
“Thankfully.” You retort, adjusting your aching limbs. Midas lays down next to you, arms wrapping around your torso. His cologne drifts around you, a welcome change from the rather unpleasant odors that have been haunting you all day. Midas places his head in the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss.
“Thank you for being here.” You reach out and cup his chin, giving him a peck on the cheek. Probably better than giving him a full kiss at this point in time.
“Of course. I'll always be here for you, darling.” Midas smiles into your neck. Exhaustion seps into your bones, the feeling finally catching up to you. Pressing your body closer to him, you melt into his chest.
“I love you.” you mutter, eyes heavy.
“I love you too.” Midas whispers. It's the last thing you hear before the warm embrace of sleep takes hold.
The next day was dedicated to your recovery. The worst of your symptoms seem to have faded, leaving you feeling weak and borderline hungover. You sat next to Midas as he gave the daily list of missions and tasks that needed to be completed. A large glass of water was your breakfast. Rather be safe than sorry. Midas finished his speech, dismissing the other agents. He sits next to you, placing a hand on top of yours. The two of you enjoy each others silent company. Midas leaves momentarily, eventually coming back with a plate of half burnt toast.
“I want you to try and eat something, so here. It's the one thing I can cook, obviously not well.” he states, placing the plate next to you. You give him a smile, taking small bites of the crispy bread. His cooking skills were awful, but it meant all the more to you that he went out of his way to make it for you. Midas sits back down and takes the other piece for himself. Even though being ill was torture, it was nice to have these small moments with him. With the Agency slowly rising in power, these interactions were few and far between.
“Thank you.” you break the comfortable silence.
“Of course.” Midas says.
It was small moments like these that made you fall in love with him all over again.