Work Text:
Subspace couldn’t stop the tears. They slid down his flushed face, dripping onto the cool counter as his body trembled with fever. His hair, usually a wild mess of fluffy white, clung to his damp skin, and his breath was shallow, quick. The heat was unbearable, coursing through him like wildfire, and he couldn’t escape it. His head felt heavy, his limbs weak, and his vision was blurred, a haze of frustration and discomfort.
He hated feeling like this. He hated being vulnerable, and yet, here he was, sprawled out on the cold table, his pride shattered by the sickness that gripped him. He bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the sobs that rose in his throat, but it was no use. The tears came anyway, burning as they streaked down his cheeks, a testament to how utterly powerless he felt.
The cold of the counter beneath him was a small comfort, but it didn’t do enough to cool the fire coursing through his veins. He had curled up on the kitchen counter, too drained to care where he lay, too sick to think straight. A thick blanket was draped over him now, its warmth a fragile comfort against the feverish heat that made him feel like he was burning alive.
The exhaustion took over, and the tears came, despite his best efforts to suppress them. Every breath felt like it might be his last, and the fear of losing control, of being exposed, dug at him deeper with each passing moment.
The soft sound of footsteps approached the kitchen, and Medkit's voice followed, the familiar weight of it grounding Subspace, even in his haze.
“Subspace...?”
Subspace stiffened at the sound, immediately feeling the instinctual need to hide the vulnerability that was consuming him. He didn’t want Medkit to see him like this—weak, broken, crying like some helpless child. He couldn’t bear it.
But his body betrayed him. The sobs he had tried so hard to keep contained came out anyway, louder this time. His chest heaved with the effort of keeping them down, but the emotions were too strong. He buried his face in the fabric of the blanket, hoping that the tears would somehow disappear if he hid from them long enough.
Medkit entered the room, pausing when he saw Subspace’s state. His sharp gaze softened in an instant, and he moved closer with a kind of quiet urgency. The sight of Subspace so completely undone, so vulnerable, tore through him more than he was willing to admit.
“Subspace,” Medkit said, his voice lower now, gentler. “You’re burning up…”
Subspace didn’t respond, just shook his head against the blanket, unwilling to meet Medkit’s eye. He could feel Medkit’s presence beside him, the weight of concern he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he wanted to push it away.
Medkit’s hand gently pressed against his back, just enough to provide comfort, not to force him to face it all. He didn’t need Subspace to speak. He knew the signs—the exhaustion, the heat, the way Subspace’s body trembled even under the blanket.
But before the silence could settle fully, Miyo came darting into the room, her small paws patting the floor with urgency. Her golden eyes flicked between Subspace and Medkit before she bounded up onto the kitchen counter, eager to be near the one she cared about. Miyo’s paws gently brushed against Subspace's side, her soft fur pressing against his fevered skin. She let out a soft, concerned mewl, nuzzling her head into Subspace’s side, her tail swishing.
"Miyaki, he's sick," Medkit mumbled, his voice soft with a touch of exasperation, but also a hint of affection for the little cat who seemed to think she could help by being near Subspace. He placed a hand over his face for a moment, but he didn’t push Miyo away. He never would.
Subspace felt Miyo’s warm little body curl up against him, her comforting presence somehow adding a strange sense of peace amidst the storm of emotions inside him. He didn’t have the energy to pull away, and something about the way she snuggled into his chest made him feel just a little less like the fevered wreck he was. It was a small solace, but it was enough to let him sink further into the comforting embrace his cat had offered.
Miyo’s soft purring continued as she curled deeper into Subspace’s side, her little body a calming warmth against his fevered skin. Subspace couldn’t help but melt just a little into her, the simple act of her being there quieting the storm inside him. The cold counter beneath him, the warmth of the blanket, and now the gentle weight of Miyo—all of it combined was like a fragile peace he wasn’t sure he deserved but was too exhausted to push away.
But Medkit’s voice cut through the haze of his exhaustion. “C'mon, let’s get your temperature,” he said, the firm edge in his tone unmistakable despite the softness beneath it. Subspace immediately stiffened, the lingering pride inside him flaring up again.
He hated this. He hated being treated like this—being fussed over, cared for, like he couldn’t handle it himself. It made him feel weak, like he was less than the person he wanted everyone to think he was. But the sickness was still clawing at him, and he couldn’t ignore it. His body burned, his mind was too foggy to protest, and he could barely even sit up on his own.
Medkit didn’t wait for a response. With a practiced, efficient motion, he gently slid his arms around Subspace, lifting him from the counter and easing him into a sitting position. Subspace’s vision swam for a moment, his body heavy with the fever, but he didn’t protest. He didn’t have the strength to.
“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Medkit muttered as he positioned Subspace carefully, his hands warm against Subspace’s shoulders. Medkit's voice was low, but there was no mistaking the worry beneath the sharpness. He reached for a thermometer, holding it steady in his hand before moving it to Subspace’s temple, where his fever was the worst. “Let me take care of this, alright? Just breathe.”
Subspace didn’t answer at first, his chest still heaving in shallow breaths. Miyo stayed close, now resting her head against Subspace’s side, her purring a soft background to the moment. He wanted to tell Medkit to back off, to let him deal with it himself, but the exhaustion felt like a heavy weight around him. His mind was too fogged to form the words, and for once, he couldn’t muster the energy to fight back.
Instead, he just leaned into Medkit’s touch, his muscles too weak to do anything else.
"Oh, you poor thing..." He mumbled, frowning.
Subspace barely registered Medkit's words, his body too heavy and weak to resist the movement. Miyo remained curled close to him as Medkit gently lifted him from the counter, wrapping the blanket around him like a cocoon of warmth. The cool air of the kitchen felt distant now, replaced by the soft glow of their shared room, and Subspace’s thoughts felt like they were slipping away with every passing second.
"Easy there, Miyo," Medkit said quietly as he gently placed the little cat on the bed. Miyo let out a soft mewl, then settled into the warmth of the blankets, purring contentedly, unaware of the turmoil swirling around Subspace.
Medkit’s movements were calm and careful, his hands steady despite the worry in his eyes. As he sat down, he guided Subspace onto his lap, his arms firm around him as if he were afraid Subspace might slip away. The weight of Subspace’s body felt too fragile, too light, and Medkit couldn't help but feel a pang of helplessness.
Subspace's head rested against Medkit’s chest, his fevered breath shallow and erratic, but for once, he didn’t push Medkit away. Instead, he lay there, too exhausted to even think of protesting.
"You’re scorching hot, my gosh," Medkit muttered under his breath, one hand resting lightly on Subspace’s forehead, trying to gauge just how hot he was. The fever was worse than he had thought—much worse—and it made Medkit's chest tighten in concern. But despite everything, there was something about Subspace’s fragile state that made Medkit’s resolve soften.
"You’re not going anywhere, not until you’re better," Medkit whispered, his voice unusually gentle. "I won’t let you."
Subspace’s body trembled against Medkit’s chest, and for a moment, the weight of his sickness felt like it was too much. He had always prided himself on his strength, his resilience—but in this moment, it was all stripped away. His head spun, his body felt as though it were on fire, and his breath came in uneven gasps. He wanted to fight, to push Medkit away, but the exhaustion wrapped around him like chains, the fever was getting to him.
Medkit noticed the subtle shift in Subspace’s movements, the way his body seemed to resist despite the fever making it difficult for him to stay awake. Medkit’s hand moved to his shoulders, gently but firmly guiding him down onto the bed.
“Lie down,” Medkit said, his voice firm but not unkind. It was a command, but there was no malice behind it—just the quiet authority of someone who knew what was best in a situation like this. He wasn’t asking Subspace to be strong. He wasn’t asking him to fight. He was simply guiding him, helping him get through this, even if Subspace didn’t want it.
Subspace groaned softly, his hands weakly pushing at the blanket as Medkit began to pull it over him. His body wanted to resist, to demand to be left alone, but the weight of the blankets felt comforting in a strange way. It wasn’t a comfort he wanted, but it was the only one that made sense right now. The thick blankets and pillows were soon piled around him, cocooning him in warmth, though it was far from the kind of comfort he usually sought.
"Stop fighting," Medkit murmured, his voice quieter now as he settled beside Subspace, making sure he was comfortable. “You’ll be better faster if you let me help you.”
Subspace’s chest heaved in shallow breaths as he turned his face toward Medkit, the flush of fever still burning hot across his skin. He didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. His pride felt fragile, a distant thing, and even though part of him still wanted to protest, the sickness had sapped his strength.
The warmth of the blankets, the pressure of the pillows around him, and the steady, calm presence of Medkit helped steady the storm inside him—if only for a moment. Medkit leaned over, gently adjusting the blankets one last time, making sure Subspace was comfortable, then sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on Subspace's side.
Subspace’s hand shook slightly as it reached out, his body still fevered and weak, but the instinct to connect, to pull Medkit closer, was undeniable. His fingers brushed over the edge of Medkit’s sleeve, a silent plea, a quiet surrender. He didn’t have the strength to voice it, but the warmth of Medkit’s presence, the calming weight of his hand on his side, was the only thing that made him feel tethered to reality in the sea of his sickness.
Medkit looked down at Subspace’s outstretched hand, his brow furrowing for just a moment in concern, before his features softened. He could see the vulnerability in Subspace’s eye—the same tough exterior, but now cracked and raw with fever. With a quiet sigh, Medkit moved closer, his hand slipping into Subspace’s, his grip firm but gentle.
“Shh,” Medkit whispered softly, brushing a strand of hair from Subspace’s forehead as he leaned down slightly. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Subspace’s breath hitched at the contact, his feverish body still trembling as he held on to Medkit, the smallest of sobs threatening to break free from his chest. It wasn’t just the sickness—it was everything else, the overwhelming weight of being too vulnerable, too exposed. He hated feeling like this, but right now, it felt like the only thing that made sense.
Medkit didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. His presence was enough, his steady hand intertwined with Subspace’s the only reassurance needed in that moment. Medkit sat there in silence, watching as Subspace’s breathing slowly steadied, the feverish haze gradually taking its toll, but still, the comfort he sought lingered in the quiet connection between them, but he wanted to.
Medkit’s voice was soft, a low murmur that filled the quiet room, his lips curving into a subtle, almost imperceptible smile as he spoke Miyo’s full name. “Now now, Miyaki...” There was something oddly satisfying about saying it that way, a tenderness in the words that spoke volumes despite their simplicity. He could feel a slight shift in the atmosphere, the quiet bond between them growing stronger, even in the midst of everything.
Miyo, sensing the change in tone, immediately responded, her small body crawling up onto Subspace’s chest and snuggling into his warmth. Her tiny paws gently pressed against him, as if trying to offer her own brand of comfort. The little cat’s purring vibrated against Subspace’s skin, a soothing hum that seemed to settle the tremors in his body.
Subspace blinked through the fog of his fevered haze, his eye flicking toward Miyo. Her presence, so small and unassuming, offered him something he hadn’t expected in that moment: a kind of quiet solace. His hand, still wrapped around Medkit’s, tightened slightly, and despite everything—the fever, the exhaustion, the vulnerability—he couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh.
Miyo nuzzled against his neck, her tiny body curled into the crook of his shoulder, offering him a silent hug, her warmth comforting him in a way that words never could. The pressure of her little body was a welcome weight against his fevered skin, grounding him in the present.
Medkit watched quietly, his hand still resting lightly on Subspace’s side, as he felt the subtle shift in the atmosphere—the way the room had calmed, the way everything felt just a little more manageable. It was in the smallest of moments, in the quiet affection between Subspace and Miyo, that the storm of his illness seemed to subside, if only a little.
Subspace’s voice was weak, hoarse from the fever, but there was something in the way he spoke—something desperate beneath the surface. "M-mneddy..." he croaked, his voice cracking as he called out to Medkit. The word was soft, almost a plea, but still, it held the same tenderness that Medkit was used to hearing, even in these rare, vulnerable moments.
Medkit’s heart softened at the sound, and without missing a beat, he leaned in closer, his hand gently brushing through Subspace’s hair. "Yes, darling?" His voice was warm, the usual sternness replaced with a gentleness that was so rare for him, but it was there, clear as day.
Subspace’s chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and he looked up at Medkit with half-lidded eye, his face flushed from the fever. His body felt like it was on fire, but the warmth he craved wasn’t just physical—it was the kind of comfort he only seemed to find in Medkit’s arms.
"M-mn... cuddles," Subspace mumbled, his words barely audible but full of quiet longing. It wasn’t something he would usually ask for, not like this—not when he was usually so full of pride and bravado. But the fever had taken that from him, had stripped away all the walls he so carefully built around himself.
Medkit’s eye softened, he smiled, cooing softly as he gently leaned down, his hand sliding around Subspace’s shoulders. "Of course," he said, his voice a low murmur, full of reassurance, he wrapped his arms around the other, cocconing him.
He shifted, carefully pulling Subspace into his chest, letting his body curl around him protectively. The blanket wrapped tightly around them both, and Medkit held him close, his arms enveloping Subspace with the warmth and comfort that he so desperately needed.
Subspace let out a soft sigh, his body sagging into the embrace, the heat of the fever still burning through him, but the closeness of Medkit’s touch was a balm to his tired soul. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but the rhythm of Medkit’s breathing and the steady pulse of his heartbeat soothed the chaos in Subspace’s mind.
.
.
.