Work Text:
Claire hated cancelling plans, especially with Leon.
She’d been looking forward to their date for a full week, looking forward to catching a movie, grabbing dinner, and maybe a quiet walk home under the park lights. But now she was curled up in bed under a mound of blankets, her head heavy and her nose stuffy, not to mention her voice lower and croakier than usual.
She sent Leon a quick text, saying she was sick, sorry, and that they’d have to reschedule.
Setting her phone down, she expected him to reply with something sympathetic and then go on with his night. Instead, ten minutes later, there was a knock at her door.
“Claire?” Leon’s voice came through, warm and familiar.
She shuffled out of bed, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders like a cape, and cracked the door open.
There he was, hair damp from the rain in his dark blue jacket, which was halfway unzipped, holding a grocery bag.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised to see him standing there.
“You didn’t think I’d let you suffer alone, did you?” He stepped past her before she could answer. “Besides, I brought supplies.”
From the bag, he pulled out a container of chicken soup, tea bags, honey, and a small box of cold medicine.
Claire shook her head, unable to hold back a smile. “You're ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously thoughtful, you mean,” he said, flashing a grin.
A few minutes later, she was back in bed, propped up against pillows, sipping tea while Leon sat beside her. He’d kicked off his boots and jacket, making himself comfortable, like he belonged there.
Honestly, he did.
“You’re going to catch this,” she mumbled.
“If I can survive zombies and parasites, I think I can survive a cold,” he replied, brushing a strand of auburn hair from her face.
She rolled her eyes but leaned into his touch. “You know, most people would have accepted the cancellation. Maybe gone to the movies alone.”
“And miss out on this sickbed date? Not a chance.” He gave her a mock look of offence.
They talked for a while, the conversation slow and easy. At some point, Claire drifted closer, resting her head against his shoulder. Leon didn’t move, he just wrapped an arm around her and adjusted the blankets until she was snug.
“Don’t worry about the date, Claire. We’ll have a real one when you’re better. For now, this is perfect,” he whispered as her eyes began to flutter shut.
She murmured something that might have been “thank you” before sleep claimed her, drifting off to the sound of rain against the window and Leon’s steady heartbeat.