Work Text:
“Oh, oh Emma.”
Paul held a hand up to his forehead in concern, leaning as far away from his girlfriend as he could while his other hand was anchored to her hair. Emma was crouched next to the toilet, resting her pale face on the seat as she tried to breathe steadily again. She reached up weakly for some toilet paper and wiped her mouth with it before flushing the paper with most of her breakfast.
“Guess we still have to stay away from greasy anything, huh Paul?” She looked back at him from his uncomfortable position. “I could’ve guessed that myself, but oh well, it’s done.”
“Sorry, do you need anything? Water, uh mouthwash, maybe a lie down?” Paul let go of Emma’s hair, fluffing it around her shoulders as he spoke anxiously. It had been less than twenty-four hours since she had been released from the hospital, her intense flu leaving her weak and delirious. It had scared the shit out of him when he was told Emma had collapsed on the bathroom floor, narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the countertop. While the doctors had warned both of them that she’d be sick for some time Paul still worried that she could get worse again. She leaned back against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder, and Paul brushed her hair away from her neck to keep it from sticking to her skin.
“All three would be great, babe.” Emma closed her eyes and smiled wearily, looking ready to fall asleep in his lap. He patted her shoulder and eased her off of him, propping up her body onto the wall before Paul stood up. He walked quickly around their small house, grabbing a glass off of the drying rack in the kitchen and the mouthwash from where he had left it in the guest bathroom the morning before. By the time he got back to their en suite, Emma was sitting up on her own and some color had returned to her face. Paul filled up the glass in the sink and sat down next to her, helping her hold onto the glass as she sipped at the water.
“Feeling a little better?” He watched her face for her reaction before she even spoke; she was an open book when she was sick. Emma grimaced before offering up a small smile.
“Yeah, I’m feeling better. I still feel like shit, but at least I’m not puking my guts out anymore.” She set down the glass and reached to grab the mouthwash out of Paul’s hands. He batted her hand away and poured her a small amount.
“Do you need help getting to the sink, or-” His question was cut off by Emma crawling to the toilet and spitting her mouthwash into the bowl. “Okay, uh, that works too. Legs a little shaky, babe?”
She nodded and laid down, pressing her cheek to the cool tile beneath her. “Carry me to bed?”
Paul gave a small chuckle and got to his knees, picking her up with some effort. She was basically deadweight and wasn’t very helpful when he tried to balance himself, but somehow he managed to get her from the floor of their bathroom into her side of the bed. She curled up on top of the sheets and shivered as Paul ducked back into the bathroom to take care of the mouthwash and water glass still sitting on the floor.
“Paul?” He perked up when he heard Emma call for him from the bed. “I’m cold.” He peeked back into the room to see her pulling weakly at the sheets. He sighed and walked back to her, helping her between the sheets so she could cuddle up. “Thank you, Paul, you’re an angel.”
“You’re welcome, Emma. You get some rest, and I’ll try and heat some soup for you to try, I think I’ve still got cans in the pantry somewhere.” Paul had risen to walk out of the room, intent on making himself useful, when a clammy hand grabbed his forearm. He stilled as Emma peeked out of the covers, an uncharacteristically bashful expression on her face.
“Will you lay with me? I sleep better when you’re here.” If he had any resistance to Emma, it would have crumbled. Paul kicked off his slippers and crawled into bed, adjusting to Emma molding into his side and using his chest as a pillow.
“I guess the soup can wait.” Paul spoke quietly as Emma mumbled something into his chest, rubbing her cheek against his shirt as she fell asleep. Paul grinned and grabbed the book he had on his bedside table, flicking on the lamp to read quietly as his girlfriend slept. Yeah, the soup can wait.