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"We're busy down here right now," Sabine said, "but you know the way. Don't worry, she's not contagious."
Luka nodded and headed past the bakery to go up the stairs. He would've gone to see Marinette even if she had been contagious, but it helped that he wouldn't have to get into a debate with anyone over how close he should or shouldn't be to her.
The house, for the most part, seemed as it always did, though he caught the scent of soup in the kitchen. There was a pot sitting in the sink, further confirming the idea, and he checked the fridge to see if there were any leftovers. He needed to know and memorize the contents while he was there, not knowing when Marinette had last eaten or if he'd have to make a trip to get something for her.
When he was satisfied, he closed the fridge and ascended the stairs, knocking on the trap door of sorts leading to her room so she'd know he was there.
"Marinette," he called, "Can I come in?"
There was some mumbling on the other side, but he understood it well enough to know it was the affirmative kind. He let himself in, spotting Marinette laying on the chaise lounge and covered by the blanket from her bed. It might've been better for her to be lying on the bed itself, but when he glanced at the hard stairs, hard floor, and factored that in with how out of it she must be, he understood.
Marinette blinked at him, squinting like he wasn't quite clear in her vision, then snuggled against the chaise lounge and let out a droning, "Heeeeey, Luka~"
"Hey." He smiled. She needed sleep, looked as sick as she sounded over the phone, but was just as beautiful to him as always. He crossed the room to sit on the floor near her, leaning against her sickbed and reaching out to stroke her forehead. "Are your eyes bothering you?"
"Mm-mm." She shook her head, then let out a tiny cough. "Was hard to see past the sparkles."
"The sparkles?" he echoed, concerned. "You're seeing stars?"
"No," she groaned, offended somehow. "You're always sparkly to me."
He shut his eyes, having just been punched in the stomach by pure affection. No matter how close he and Marinette were, he was occasionally caught off-guard when she'd say something so heartfelt.
"The feeling's mutual," he said when he found his voice again, idly brushing aside strands of her bangs that he'd worried might bother her. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
Her voice dragged as she thought about it. "Nnnot really? Ate a bit ago and had a drink."
"When was a bit ago?" he asked, suspicious.
Her lips pressed together, not answering. Scrutinizing her expression, he only let the subject go when he determined that it was because she genuinely didn't know the time rather than trying to "not burden him." They were still working on that in their relationship and he'd been guilty of it himself at times, so he was lenient with her.
Pushing himself up just enough to lean over her, he pressed a kiss to her temple. She let out a tiny, pleased squeak at it that he swiftly committed to memory; he'd happily push aside a few of the more unimportant things that he'd remembered from inside her fridge to make room for that cute noise.
"Are you tired?" he wondered, figuring that was the other important thing to check. "I won't go anywhere if you want to sleep."
"Nu-uh." She paused. "Not nu-uh to you staying here. I'm not tired, just dying."
He snorted at the extra rasp she'd intentionally put into her voice at that last word, then moved to sit on the chaise lounge itself rather than the floor. "You're strong. You'll beat this easily."
She looked at him with narrowed eyes, letting out a long, tiny hum. "And you're going to stay right there?"
He didn't know what the emphasis was for, but nodded. "Yeah."
"Mm." To his surprise, she pouted and turned away, effectively keeping her back to him.
Had he done something wrong? "Marinette?"
"It's okay." She coughed, not sounding okay." I'm sick, so I'm probably pretty gross right now. Of course you wouldn't."
Luka racked his brain, trying to understand what she meant, and then he remembered: ever since they'd started dating, he would always offer her cuddles whenever she was in a bad mood, when he felt she needed it, or simply when he wanted to.
He eyed the thick blanket, uncertain, imagining their combined body heat trapped under it. "Wouldn't it be too warm with me and the blanket?"
Not missing a beat, she replied in a mumble, "I'd get rid of the blanket before you."
Her parents almost definitely wouldn't approve of a teenage boy sleeping next to their sick teenage daughter, but that wasn't going to stop him. He took off his shoes before standing up and lifting a corner of the blanket to get inside. Slipping himself underneath, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, relishing in the shuddering exhale that followed.
"Feeling better?" he asked with a knowing smile.
"Much~" She giggled, turning herself just enough to try and nuzzle him. "I was thinking it'd be the perfect practice."
"Practice?" He couldn't help his curiosity. "Practice for what?"
"Spooning!" It was the loudest she'd been since he got there. "We've never spooned before. It'll be important if we ever share a bed to practice."
He had no response to that, though the room suddenly felt warmer. He didn't get how one could practice spooning - weren't they simply doing it right then? - but he acknowledged to himself that it could've been Marinette being a little dazed from being sick.
What he couldn't get past, however, was that apparently she'd thought about it enough that she saw it as important, and even imagined that they might share a bed someday. Did that imply that they'd be living together, or that they'd at least be so close to doing so that they constantly visited each other and slept over?
He sighed affectionately, burying his face into Marinette's hair. They were equals in that neither of them had prior dating experience before each other, but it was moments like these that reminded him of how not used to it he was. He'd given plenty of hugs and cheek kisses to his little sister to show that he cared, but this was so much more than a step up from that.
Even worse was when, a few minutes into the "spooning practice," Marinette started to shift in his arms and call out, "Luka? Turn around."
Despite not knowing what she was up to, he let her go, rolling over in the extremely limited space of the chaise lounge to face the other way. Her arms came around him and squeezed him tight, her breath hot against the back of his neck.
"It's my turn," she said, as if that was an excuse. "How is it?"
Too much. "It's great."
"Great!" She giggled practically right next to his ear, which was a second blow to his heart.
He took a wary glance at the way back into the kitchen, listening closely for any sign that someone might be coming up. After confirming it was safe, he tried to look at her over his shoulder. "But..."
"'But?" she asked curiously.
He twisted around to turn towards her again, despite her whines of protests that it was still her turn. Rather than having her be the little spoon though, he embraced her as she was and pulled her in so their chests were pressing together. The blanket was starting to fall off due to all of the movement, so he took one hand off of her to fix it.
"I missed seeing your face," he admitted, combing through her hair with his freed hand; it was rare that he got to see her with her hair down and intended to take full advantage of the opportunity.
"Wha—ah—buh—?" she stammered, but nothing coherent came out and she opted to hide herself against him. He heard her mumble something that he was sure was "I'd miss yours too," but he smiled and let her think he hadn't heard it.
They couldn't grow up fast enough.