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“PAPA!” squealed Anya, barreling into his legs at the bus stop. “You’re here, you’re here! Anya thought that maybe Mama would pick her up, or she would walk home all alone and sad, but it’s you!”
“It is me,” Loid grinned, scooping her into his arms. “Come on, let’s go say hi to Bond. Mama’s still at work, but she’ll be home soon; I came to pick you up since I got off early. How was your day?”
“Real good!” she giggled, squirming around in his grip to better look at him. “We had art class today. I made a picture thiiis big-” she stretched her arms out for emphasis- “of Director Chimera ‘n Agent Penguinman. And Bond was there too, ob-ee-us-ly.”
“Obviously,” Loid corrected, grinning. “You’ll have to show me when you get it back from school. That sounds exciting.”
“It’s very exciting, Papa. Becky told me it was my best work yet! She said the colors were magnifique.”
“Well, that’s very nice, Peanut,” he grinned. “I’m sure Mama and I will love it.”
“Oh, I know you will,” she announced smugly. “Shoulders?”
“Sorry, Anya, not today,” he said. “I got into a little accident and promised your mama I’d be careful. It’ll be fine in a few days, though, okay?”
“Heh,” said Anya, wearing that look again. “Okie, Papa.”
Seriously, what is she thinking when she makes that face?
Let’s get back home, kiddo,” he said, hefting her in his arms and stroking her back with a thumb. “I’ll make you a snack.”
—
The next day, Anya walked through their apartment door with her artwork- and a runny nose.
“Pa-achoo! Papa!” she called. “Look, it’s my painting! See?”
“It’s very nice, Anya,” he commended her after taking a moment to examine the brightly-colored blobs. “Becky was right about the colors. You’re getting better at art.”
“Yay!” she squealed, jumping up and down in her excitement. “I- choo! I worked really hard! Can Anya have ice cream?”
Loid huffed a laugh, ruffling her hair. “Not now, Anya, it’s dinner in a few hours. If Mama gets home in time, we can go after, okay?”
“Okie dokie!”
“Are you feeling well, Peanut?”
“I’m peachy, Papa,” said Anya. “‘Cept my nose is really runny and hot and itchy and I can’t breathe too well, and my eyes feel a little like sandpaper, but that’s what Sy-on Boy said he felt like a couple days ago, and his flunkies the day before. Also Becky and the boy with the fangs and Bazooka Bill. So it’s normal, probably.”
Oh no. Schools are a breeding ground for illnesses.
“Well, lucky for you, I work at a hospital,” he said. “I don’t think that’s normal, but we’ll get you fixed up in no time, okay? Just- maybe no going out for ice cream tonight.”
Her mood was instantly ruined.
“But Anya wants ice cream,” she pouted, big green eyes beginning to water. “I don’ even want food. ‘M’not hungry, Papa. I just want ice cream!”
Loid frowned. Not much of an appetite, either. “I need you to at least eat a little something, Anya. It’ll help you feel better. How does peanut soup sound?”
She thought for a moment, little face scrunching up in concentration. “I guess,” she muttered.
Loid was shocked.
“Yeah, you’re definitely sick,” he remarked. “Go lay down, okay? I’ll make you your soup.”
“‘Kay, Papa,” she sniffled, dragging her schoolbag behind her as she trudged off to her room.
–
Yor walked through the front door just as Loid was pouring the soup into a bowl. “I’m home,” she called out, hanging her coat on the rack.
“Welcome back,” Loid answered from the kitchen. “How was work?”
“It was fine- Loid!”
“Yes, Yor?”
“Why are you cooking? You should be resting! You have a concussion!” Yor leveled a halfhearted glare at him before stepping behind him and pushing him towards the couch. “You have a whole three days off, Loid. You’re not supposed to spend them on your feet.”
“Wait- Yor-”
“Sit.”
“Anya’s sick,” he muttered as she herded him away from the kitchen. “I was just going to bring her that soup.”
“Oh! Poor thing!” she exclaimed, hands flying to her heart. “I’ll do it,” she hummed, shuffling over to where he’d left the bowl. “It’s no trouble. You wait there.”
Frankly, this newer, pushier version of Yor was a bit frightening; though he would’ve been just fine to take the soup to Anya, he figured it was probably better to stay on Yor’s good side.
“-choo! MAMA!” Anya cried delightedly. He was cut off from the rest of their happy reunion as Yor shut the door behind her.
Yor came out a few minutes later, releasing a heavy breath. “Poor girl,” she said. “I hope she feels better soon.”
“She’s a kid,” said Loid. “She’ll be better fairly quickly, I hope. She should be fine as long as she doesn’t do anything crazy.”
“Hm,” said Yor. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”
“I was making soup for my sick child,” Loid grumbled. “I don’t think that should be considered crazy. Or that I’m at fault.”
Yor grinned. “Leave her care to me,” she said. “Yuri got sick a lot as a child, so I have experience. You just get better.”
“Seriously, Yor, I promise I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve been concussed before.”
“Doesn’t matter!” she chirped. “I want to take care of you both, alright? So let me. Please.”
He supposed he couldn’t argue with that; once again, he found himself unable to tell her no.
“Alright,” he said. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”
–
It could hurt, actually.
The next morning, as Loid was scrambling eggs for breakfast, Yor emerged from her room with a sneeze.
Not again.
“Morning, Yor,” he greeted. “Feeling alright?”
“Goob morbing,” she replied, yawning. “Fine, thanks. Why are you ib the kitchen? I tol’ you I’d take care of you both.”
“Yor,” he deadpanned, “have you looked at or listened to yourself? You sound sicker than Anya did yesterday, and your cheeks are flushed.” He scraped the eggs onto a large plate and briskly walked over to meet her. “Do you have a fever?”
“No, I’b fine-”
She was cut off by him resting the back of his hand against her cheek, then her forehead. “You do feel a little warm,” he remarked. “Do you have an appetite?”
“Uh- d-don’ worry, Loib, I can, uh, eat,” she said, glancing away from him and fidgeting with the ends of her hair. Loid cleared his throat before slowly removing his hand, blue eyes quickly flicking away from her face.
This was proven false moments later as she sat at the table, staring fiercely at her eggs and bacon.
“Come on, Yor, just take three more bites,” Loid pleaded. “It’s best to take medicine when you’ve got some food in you.”
“Yes. Yes, I can do that,” she stated. She sighed before spearing a bite of egg onto the end of her fork and shoving it into her mouth, gulping it down. “Just… gimme a few mobents.”
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll go check on Anya while you’re finishing up.”
“Tha’s my job!” she cried.
“Yor, I really do appreciate your concern, but I promise you I can do this without hurting myself. I know my limits, don’t worry.”
Yor huffed a sad sigh and turned back to her eggs.
“Anya,” Loid called, opening her bedroom door. “How are you feeling, Peanut?”
“Better!” said the little girl. “Now, I’m only half stuffy, and I don’t feel all shivery and cold. Also, I can breathe! Rejoice!” her smile quickly turned into a pout, however, when she furrowed her brows and said, “Anya can’t make a snotaconda anymore, though.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear your sickness was short-lived,” he remarked. “And your snotaconda wasn’t exactly sightly, Anya. It was rather unsanitary. Do you want some eggs and bacon?”
“Fine,” she grumbled, mildly upset at his commentary. “But you have to carry me.”
Loid sighed as he pulled her out of bed and walked her to her seat at the kitchen table. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?” he asked, removing her little night cap to ruffle her hair. “Little mischief maker.”
“Hi, Mama!” Anya chirped, looking up at her mother as Loid set her plate in front of her. “How do you do on this looovely morning?”
“I’b well, Miss Anya,” Yor said, a gentle smile curving her lips.
“Mama is lying.”
Yor huffed. “I’b jus’ fibe, really!”
“Don’t listen to her, Anya,” Loid called, wincing slightly as his stitches pulled when he reached up to take out his own plate. “She’s sick, and she will be taking the day off.”
“But-”
“You’ve still only eaten two bites out of those eggs, Yor,” he said. “It’s clear you’re feeling unwell, despite what you say. I’ll call City Hall, okay?”
“But- oh, fibe,” she grumbled. “I s’pose it’s better for me to stay here an’ make sure you don’ do anything too straibing anyways.”
Loid smiled. “Here’s some cold medicine,” he said, placing it in front of her. “Drink some water, okay? I’ll go call your work.”
–
They decided to keep Anya home for the day. While it was true she felt much better, they didn’t want to run the risk of any more students catching the illness, and they weren’t sure how contagious she still was.
Yor only got worse as the hours went by. She wouldn’t eat, could barely drink around her sore throat, and was still trying to do all the household chores in his stead.
“Please, Yor, go lay down,” Loid begged. “You’re clearly feeling unwell. You need rest.”
“Hah! If it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black!” she crowed. “You still keep the curtains closed wheb iss brigh’ ou’side, an’ it clearly hurts you to reach above your head or stretch.”
“At least I can wash dishes without my hands shaking, Yor,” he retorted, glancing pointedly at her trembling frame. “You look just about ready to collapse. Go to bed.” He put a hand to the small of her back and gently guided her out of the kitchen and toward her room. “You need rest. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, alright?” He moved his hand up to her shoulder, absentmindedly stroking her collarbone. “I’m here if you need me.”
Yor huffed as she tucked herself into bed and nodded reluctantly, turning her face away as her cheeks flushed a red too bright to be only from the fever. Anya quickly dashed in after her, snuggling into her mother’s arms.
“Anya, leave your mama alone,” he said gently. “She needs to sleep, okay?”
“No, Loib, really, iss fibe,” Yor answered in Anya’s stead. “She’s soft, an’ she’s warm. She makes for a wonderful cuddle buddy.”
“Alright,” Loid assented. “But Anya, if you’re keeping her awake, you need to leave.”
Yor whispered conspiratorially in the little girl’s ear, eliciting a giggle.
“No buts!” he frowned. “Anya, if anything she says prevents her from getting the rest she needs, I don’t want you to listen to her.”
The two just giggled again.
Loid sighed exasperatedly, raking a hand through his hair.
–
Yor couldn’t sleep.
She’d never admit it to Loid, but her head pounded every time she laid it on her pillow. Anya was asleep in her arms, curled against her body, likely sleeping off whatever sickness still remained in her system. Yor laid there, watching her little girl- (no, Loid’s little girl- do I even have the right to think of her that way yet?)- and sighed, curling her arms tighter around Anya’s small body. Such a darling girl, and I couldn’t even get all the way through caring for her without getting sick myself. Pathetic.
Anya shifted and blinked open sleepy eyes, staring blearily at Yor.
“Mama, shushhhhhhh,” chided the girl, putting a tiny finger against Yor’s lips. “Too loud.”
“But I didn’ say abything-”
“Shhhhhh. Mama needs to sleep, but she can’t stop talking.” She knocked on Yor’s head.
“Uh- sweetie, are you sure you don' still hab a feber?”
“Sleep!”
“Yes! Okay!”
So Yor, bewildered, shut her eyes and finally entered a restless sleep.
–
“Papa!” Anya called from around the corner. “Papa, help.”
“What is it, Anya?” he asked, worry edging into his voice. “Are you okay? Is Yor?”
She grabbed his hand and tugged him into Yor’s room. “Look, Papa,” she said, pointing at her mother.
Her cheeks were flushed a very pretty alarming shade of red, face relaxed in her sleep, that gorgeous raven hair of hers sprawled out over her pillow. There was a lock of it laid across her face; if he could just-
“Papa,” Anya said, an unimpressed expression on her face.
“I- ye- yes? What?” Loid stammered, tearing his gaze from Yor. Mortified, he realized he’d reached his hand out halfway to brush the hair away from her face and quickly (maybe a little too quickly) drew it back to his side.
“Anya brought Papa here on her mission,” grumbled the girl. “Flirt with Mama some other time.”
“What exactly is it that you needed my help with?” he muttered, turning his face away.
“Mama’s hot. Like, really hot.”
Loid choked.
Frozen in place, he cried, “Anya- what are- oh.”
She was referring to Yor’s temperature.
Obviously.
Get a grip, moron, he thought, cursing himself for his mental short-circuit. Yor needs help.
Anya squinched her face up at him, giving him what seemed to be her best Papa-is-gross face.
“Thank you for telling me, Anya,” he said, quickly composing himself, pointedly ignoring the look she gave him. Loid walked briskly to Yor’s bedside, resting a palm against her forehead to gauge her temperature. Yor grunted at his touch and shifted in her sleep, face twisting into an expression of displeasure.
“Oh, dear,” he hissed. “She’s burning up. Stay here for a moment, Anya; I need to grab a few things.”
He hurried out of the room and to the refrigerator, scooping ice into a bowl and filling it with water. He tore a washcloth from the linen closet and quickly dashed back to Yor’s bedside, dipping it into the bowl and wringing it out.
“What’s that for, Papa?” Anya asked, tilting her head.
“This goes on your mama’s forehead,” he informed her. “It should hopefully help to bring down her temperature. Could you go get the thermometer from your nightstand, Peanut?”
“Operation Thermometer is a go!” she announced, making whooshing sounds as she sprinted onto her room. “Mission success, Papa!” she called moments later, holding out the thermometer to him. “I have acquired the thingy!”
“Thank you very much, Anya,” he said, smiling fondly as he ruffled her hair. “You did a good job.”
Loathe as he was to the idea of waking Yor up, he wanted her conscious to take her temperature. Gingerly, he placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. “Yor,” he murmured. “I need you to wake up for me, Yor. I have to take your temperature.”
Yor grunted and shifted a bit; after a few moments, her reddened eyes opened slowly and she woke with a strangled cough.
“I’m very sorry to wake you,” Loid murmured sympathetically, staring in concern at her fever-bright eyes. “I just need to take your temperature, and then you can go right back to sleep. Sit up for me, alright?”
Loid slid his hand from her shoulder to her upper back, gently coaxing her upwards. “Stick this under your tongue, please,” he said, handing her the thermometer. “Just keep it there for a minute or so and I can take it back from you.”
Yor nodded slowly before putting the thermometer in her mouth.
Loid watched the red line grow steadily and steadily higher, counting the seconds. “I can take it now,” he said, offering the hand that wasn’t currently rubbing soothing circles into her back. She nodded slowly and gave the thermometer back to him.
102.7 degrees.
“Well,” said Loid, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead, “You’ve sure got a fever, Yor. Stay in bed, alright? I’ll get you some water.”
“Nghhh.”
“What?”
Yor put her hands to her throat; Loid slowly removed his hand from her back. “Does it- are you saying it hurts to speak?”
She nodded sullenly.
“Oh dear. Would you rather I brew you some tea with honey?”
She shook her head furiously.
“Oh- um, okay. So, then, yes to the water?”
Yor sighed, seeming to deflate, then cast a glance around her room.
“Papa! I wanna draw!” Anya suddenly announced, staring determinedly up at him.
“Uh- alright, Peanut, knock yourself out,” he replied quizzically, raising a blond brow. Anya nodded fiercely and dashed off once again to her room, returning seconds later with multiple sheets of paper and a box of crayons.
Yor’s eyes seemed to light up. She pointed frantically at Anya’s paper.
“Oh- something to write with?”
She nodded, a spark in her eye. Loid quickly stole a sheet of paper and a proffered bright pink crayon from Anya and handed them to Yor. She turned around, braced the paper against the headboard, and wrote:
Go sit down!
Loid leveled an unimpressed stare at her. “Yor,” he said. “You can’t even speak. I don’t want to hear- er, that is, read it.”
Yor huffed and flopped back down onto her pillows. She seemed to debate with herself for a moment, her face scrunched up, before whipping back around and scribbling something more on her sheet of paper.
Would you mind bringing me some more pillows? It’s a bit difficult for me to breathe with my face so low.
Embarrassed, she hid her reddening face behind the paper.
Loid huffed a laugh, smiling warmly. “Of course not.”
–
As much as Twilight hated to admit it, he was still feeling the effects of his concussion. Having his skull shoved against a wall was not something he was keen on repeating. Bright lights and loud sounds still made him dizzy, his nausea resurfaced every time he stood up or moved too quickly, and his head was still perpetually pounding a dull throb. On top of that, there was the wound across his chest that was still somewhat fresh; pulling the stitches too hard made him hiss in pain.
For a moment, he reached his hand beneath his shirt, brushing his fingers across the bandages wrapped around his chest and right shoulder. He’d found them there after Yor had put him to bed that night (seriously, how was she so strong? He was not a small man by any means). He’d woken in the early hours of the morning to discover he’d been bandaged, dressed in one of his soft old tees, and de-socked-and-shoed; she’d also removed his belt from the loops in his trousers, but she had not changed his pants. He’d been touched at her kind act as well as her attempt to let him keep whatever dignity he hadn’t lost that night.
His ears burned at the memory.
Though he couldn’t say he was 100% yet, Yor was in a worse situation; she’d only continue to get sicker without anyone to look after her, so he would be there.
Because the mission required her to be hale and whole to assist in the caretaking of one rowdy six-year-old. That’s all.
And because his mother had always, always taught him to be a gentleman.
Twilight quickly filled a glass with water, gently rolling his shoulder as he did so. He’d just put Anya to bed, so he was free to tend to Yor without distraction.
He carried the water, along with a bowl of soup and two pills of painkillers, on a tray to her room. He rapped the door twice with his knuckles before pushing it open; he walked up to her bedside and set the tray down on her lap.
“How are you doing?” he asked her, sitting cross-legged beside her bed. She turned her head to meet his eyes before giving him a thumbs-up and a smile.
“Really?”
She nodded.
Loid narrowed his eyes skeptically before touching her cheek with the back of his palm; it was still just as warm as it had been before. “Liar,” he grumbled. “You still can’t talk, your fever is high, and I saw the look you gave that soup when you thought I wasn’t looking.”
Yor sighed and looked away.
“What is it?” he prodded, tone gentler this time. “Did I say something?”
She shook her head.
“Did I do something?”
Again, she shook her head.
“Was it something I didn’t do?”
“No,” she croaked, turning her head to meet his gaze.
He was startled by how sad her eyes looked.
Yor’s eyes were never ones he thought of as sad; they were cheerful, optimistic, loving, determined. Fierce, sometimes, and even frightening. But never sad.
“Yor, are you alright?” he asked gently, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder.
She nodded once again. He didn’t believe her for a second.
“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” he murmured. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to talk about it.”
Her hand came up to briefly brush against his before she turned her head away.
He knew a dismissal when he saw one.
“Try to finish your soup, okay?” he instructed. “Drink your water, too. And that’s ibuprofen; I figured you probably had a headache, so-”
She cut him off with a smirk. So overbearing, it seemed to say.
Nonetheless, she choked out a “thank you” as he shut the door behind him.
–
Loid woke to his alarm clock the next morning. He neatly folded back the covers, stood and stretched the sleep from his limbs, and quickly made his bed before walking into Anya’s room to rouse her.
“Morning, Anya,” he called, removing her blankets and scooping her into his arms. “Time to wake up, okay? Go brush your teeth and wash your face.”
“Bu’ the bad guys,” she mumbled, eyes only halfway open.
“You can dream about spies again tonight, Anya, but I’ve already let you miss a day of school. One more and you’ll start to fall even further behind; if you want to study less, you need to get ready.
“I don’ wannaaaa,” she whined, staring at him with wide, watery eyes. If he looked at them for a second longer, he’d cave.
“But you’ve gottaaaaa,” he parroted, setting her on her feet. “Brush your teeth, Peanut. I’ll make you some breakfast.”
Anya grumbled and trudged off to the bathroom.
Loid started whipping up a quick batch of pancakes; Anya emerged a few minutes later, looking slightly more awake. “Glad to see you back down to earth,” he grinned. “You ready for some pancakes?”
That did the trick.
“PANCAKES!” she shrieked. The sound sent a pang through Loid’s skull. “Papa! Papa, can you put peanut butter on mine? And chock-lit chips? Also, where would I be if I wasn’t on earth? Papa is silly.”
Loid chuckled as he set her already-prepared plate in front of her. She asked for the same thing every single ime he made pancakes; there was no point in even asking what toppings she wanted anymore.
“Are you feeling all better, Anya?”
“Mmmhmmm,” she replied around a large mouthful of pancake. “Aaaall be’er, Baba.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. That’s bad manners.”
“Kay, Baba.”
Loid sighed.
–
By some miracle, they managed to make it to the bus stop without losing or forgetting anything- three minutes early, might he add. They didn’t even have to sprint there this morning, much to the relief of Loid’s aching head and shoulder.
“Have a good day,” he said, setting her hat on her head as she stood in the bus stairwell. “Don’t get into or cause any trouble. I’m sure Master Henderson doesn’t want any more gray hairs.”
“Okie dokie,” said Anya, giving him a goofy little salute. “See you later, Agent Papa!”
Loid waved as the bus pulled away.
Once it was out of sight, he walked briskly back to their apartment; he didn’t want Yor waking up alone.
He was still wondering about why she’d seemed so sullen last night; he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t been keeping him up throughout the night. To keep Operation Strix going smoothly, he needed to ensure she felt perfectly content.
He didn’t let himself wonder about why, exactly, her expression had tugged so hard on his heart.
Loid walked through the door, ruffling Bond’s head fur as he strode through the entrance and straight to Yor’s bedroom. Again, he knocked twice and entered.
Today’s Yor seemed to be no better than yesterday’s; the fever-shine to her eyes was even brighter, her cheeks redder and complexion paler, her breathing rattling and shallow.
“Oh, Yor,” he breathed, striding again to her bedside. “You look awful.”
Yor huffed a wheezing laugh.
I get the feeling we’ve had a similar conversation.
Loid raised his lips in a halfhearted grin. “Fair enough,” he said faintly. “Let me take your temperature, please.” Once again, he slid a hand behind her back to prop her up; it hardly mattered that her pillows were stacked so high she was already practically sitting up. She opened her mouth, and he stuck the thermometer under her tongue for a second time.
It read 104.1 degrees.
“I- oh. Oh, no, Yor- Yor, that is not good,” he groaned, dumbfounded. “You- oh my goodness, that is a very high fever.” He set her gently on her pile of pillows again and pressed a palm to her forehead. “You could cook an egg on your forehead,” he remarked, voice thready with concern. “I’m calling City Hall. You’re off work today and tomorrow, at least.”
Honestly, the most concerning thing to him was that she didn’t even try to argue.
–
Loid returned ten minutes later with a cold washcloth, a large bottle of water, a pseudoephedrine tablet, and two more ibuprofen pills.
“You’re probably not up for eating much of anything right now,” he remarked, "but I have another pot of soup simmering on the stove. I also need you to at least try and drink all of that water today. Even better if you need a refill.”
Yor nodded mutely.
“I’ll draw you a bath, too,” he said. “Does that sound alright? I’ve always found the steam helps clear out my sinuses. And then you should do a nasal rinse after; I’ll grab some from the cabinet. Oh, but make sure you take that decongestant first.”
He blinked. He’d been rambling again, hadn’t he?
“Now, Yor, your temperature is in a dangerous zone; if it persists at 104 for another hour, I’m going to take you to the hospital,” he said. “So I really need you to drink as much of that water as you can, okay? I’ll go draw your bath now.”
Yor nodded again as he strode over to her dresser to search for more clothes for her to wear.
She really didn’t have much.
There was that backless red sweater she wore so often, but that’s what she had on; other than that, she honestly didn’t have anything else to wear around the house.
Loid thought for a moment before entering his own room. He found his softest tee and grabbed his smallest pair of sweatpants; they’d still be large on her, but they had drawstrings. He’d figure something else out if they didn’t fit.
He neatly folded the clothes and strode into the bathroom, placing them on the counter and twisting the bath drain shut. For good measure, he threw in some bath salts- hopefully, they’d help to relax her aching muscles.
Once he was completely satisfied, he shut the bathroom door to keep the steam in and walked across to Yor’s room. “Bath’s ready,” he announced. “Can you walk fine?”
“Mhm,” she murmured, folding back her blankets. She stretched out her limbs for a moment before shoving herself onto her feet.
She stumbled.
Immediately, he rushed to catch her; he grasped her elbow as she tottered forward.
“Are you alright?” he asked, peering down into her face.
She turned hers away and nodded.
Do you need to hold on to me the rest of the way?”
Yor sunk her head low, something in her voice he couldn’t quite place as she mumbled, “...Yes.”
Without a word, Loid offered his elbow to her; she curled her fingers into his sleeve as they trudged across the short hall. Loid noted with concern that she was both trembling and seemed to be exhibiting only a fraction of her usual strength as she held onto him. They entered the bathroom; ears reddening once again, Loid peered down into her face.
“Uhm,” he started, immediately breaking eye contact. “Do you… need any, uh, help?”
Yor squeaked.
Hands flying to her face, she vigorously shook her head. “‘M’fine, L-Loid.”
“Yes. Um, yes, okay,” he stammered. “I will, um. I’ll be nearby, so just- call if you need anything.”
Yor nodded as he turned to leave the bathroom.
–
She emerged from the bathroom forty five minutes later.
In Loid’s clothes.
The white tee hung loose from her frame; her water-slick hair shone as it cascaded down her front, wetting the t-shirt in the places it touched. One shoulder was bare as the collar of the shirt slipped to the side. The sweatpants were definitely too large, bunching at the ankles; even with the cinch tied as tightly as it could be, they still hung just a tad too low.
His heart did a funny flip.
She looked perfect amazing gorgeous like everything he’d ever hoped for-
He cleared his throat.
He didn’t know how she looked.
“Feeling-”
Loid broke off, completely mortified, as his voice cracked. He couldn’t even look at her.
“Feeling any better, Yor?” he asked, pointedly staring at her left eyebrow. He ignored the flush he could feel rising on his cheeks.
“Yes, actually,” she said. Her voice was still hoarse, but she didn’t sound nearly as stuffy as she had before. “You were right. I think decongestant, bath steam, and nasal rinse are the golden trio,” she grinned.
“Oh, excellent,” he remarked, perking up. “Let’s check your temperature again, okay?”
Yor nodded. This time, she didn’t reach to hold on to him; he stayed close behind nonetheless. When they reached her bedroom, she seated herself on the edge of her mattress; Loid crouched down in front of her. “Alright, let’s see,” he said, sticking the thermometer beneath her tongue.
101.3.
“Yes!” he whooped, a broad grin spreading over his face. “That’s wonderful, Yor. No hospital for you today.”
Yor huffed a breath of laughter. “Thank goodness,” she said. “Hospitals are too stuffy.”
“I’ll go get you that soup that’s been simmering,” he said. “Do you need anything else while I’m up?”
“No, Loid, thank you,” she replied. “Soup sounds fine.”
–
“Anya has returned from her mission!” she called, bursting through the front door.
“Oh, hello, Miss Anya,” Yor grinned. “How was school? Are Becky and Damian feeling better?”
“Yup,” Anya said, nodding once. “Becky squealed when she saw me and gave me a biiiig hug. Sy-on Boy just rolled his eyes.”
Yor frowned.
“But he did give me his hanky after I made mine all dirty with snot,” she said. “So he’s fine, I guess.”
Yor’s eyes crinkled as she gave Anya a tender smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart,” she said.
“Is Mama feeling better?”
“I am! Your Papa gave me some tips, so I’m feeling a lot better now,” she grinned.
“Mama is wearing Papa’s clothes.”
“I- um- yes,” Yor stammered. “My house clothes were dirty, so… he was kind enough to let me borrow his.”
“Heh.”
–
After he’d put Anya to bed, Loid left to shower. The water stung a bit as it hit his chest wound, but the hot water trickling down his body soothed his tense muscles and dulled his headache just a bit.
He quickly towel-dried his hair and threw on a fresh set of pajamas, slipping on a worn pair of socks as he ambled throughout the house to make sure everything was in its place before bed.
I’ll just check on Yor one more time.
“Come in,” she called at his knock.
Loid pushed open the door. “Hey,” he murmured. “Are you feeling alright?” He stood in the doorframe as her ruby eyes flicked up to meet his.
“Yeah, um, yes,” she said. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” he smiled. “Sweet dreams, Yor.”
“Loid, um- wait!”
He stopped, turning back to face her.
“Hm?”
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Oh,” he said. “That’s very kind, Yor, but I really just want you to focus on getting better. You should get some rest, alright?” Loid reached to switch off her light.
“But-”
When he turned to meet her eyes again, she was looking away, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.
“Yor,” he murmured, brows turning up in concern. “Is something the matter?”
“No. No, don’t worry about it, Loid,” she croaked, her voice wobbly.
“Tell me,” he said, seating himself on the edge of her bed. “Please. What’s wrong?”
“Really, it’s nothing.”
“It is not nothing, Yor. Why do you always dismiss yourself? Your feelings?”
Her breath hitched at that.
The room was silent for a moment; he watched her back as she sat turned away from him.
“I just- all I wanted was to take care of you,” came her quiet answer.
Loid thought he felt his heart crack just a bit.
“You did, Yor,” he affirmed. “You found me on the couch, remember? You stitched me up, and you bandaged me, and you put me to bed. You really did a wonderful job.”
“And what else?” she cried. “Sure, I stitched you up. I’ve done that countless times over the years- Yuri was always so prone to injury when he was little. I just wanted to keep helping in some way. So when Anya got sick, I saw an opportunity. I told you to rest- you needed it, still do- so I could take care of Anya. And I was so happy to do that.”
She paused; Loid waited.
“And then I got sick.”
She finally turned to meet his eyes; hers were large, sorrowful, filled with unshed tears. “And I tried. I really did try so hard to finish helping Anya recover, tried to give you just that little bit of rest you deserve. You work so hard, Loid, and I- I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate it.
“But I couldn’t.”
Yor began to dissolve into hiccups, her face finally crumpling. “I just want- wanted to be useful, L-Loid. That’s it. Wanted to show y-you I could be someone you can depend on. I wanted to b-be a safe place for you to land. And look what happened. I made you take care of me while you were still recovering yourself- and I’ve gone and made everything so much worse.”
The look she gave him then, broken and so, so vulnerable, shattered him completely.
“Oh, Yor,” he whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder again. “Do you really think that’s why you’re here? To be useful?”
She took in a sharp breath. Yes, then.
“No. No, Yor, that’s not- that isn’t why you’re here. That’s- it’s not why I chose you. For Anya.”
She slowly looked into his eyes again.
“And that’s not why I chose you for me.”
Her hiccups turned to full-on sobs; he didn’t want to admit why it hurt him so to see her like that.
In that moment, Loid wanted nothing more than to pull her close, to hold her against his chest.
So he did.
Yor let out a little yelp as he tugged her into the space between his knees, hugging her close. She sobbed even harder, her hands coming up to tangle in the back of his shirt; he could feel how hard her arms were shaking. He cradled her head to his shoulder, rubbing firm circles into her back with the thumb of his other hand. They sat like that, until finally, she looked up at him and asked, “Then why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you choose me, Loid?”
He brought a hand up to caress her cheek, to keep her head tilted up so she couldn’t escape his gaze.
“I chose you because you’re strong,” he began. “And no, I don’t just mean in the physical sense. You have incredible resolve, Yor. You do whatever it takes to get the job done; I’ve never seen you back down from a challenge. You’re kind, and you’re brave, and you’re so, so compassionate. You love Anya with your whole heart, Yor, and you put your whole self into everything you do, and I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
He swallowed hard.
“You remind me so much of my mother- of her kindness, her tenacity, her fierce protective nature.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“You- honestly, Yor,” he murmured, voice so low he could hardly hear it himself, “you-”
Don’t say it, Twilight.
He took in a steadying breath. Yor waited, wide-eyed; Loid wiped a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
“Yes, Loid?”
Don’t!
“You’re- Yor, you’re everything. You’re everything to me.”
She gasped, wonder shining in her deep cherry eyes as she gazed up at him.
Oh, he was so utterly compromised.
She released a shaky breath; only when he felt it did he realize how closely he was cradling her face to his own.
He tucked a lock of ink-dark hair behind her ear-
She looked into his eyes-
And suddenly, his mouth was on hers; he was tipping her head up, and she was winding her arms around his neck, and he felt whole.
Finally.
For the first time in years, he felt a lump form in his throat as he held her so close. He pulled away, stroking her cheek, and she smiled so tenderly at him; frankly, he wasn’t sure how he’d waited so long.
“I should- um,” he started, his voice strained. “I’ll let you get some sleep now.”
He turned to get up, but Yor caught his wrist.
“Loid, wait!”
“Hm?”
“Stay. In here. Just- sleep.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
Carefully, he crawled back onto her bed, waiting for her to slide under the covers before doing the same.
She turned on her side to face him, eyes sparkling as she pulled herself closer to lay nestled in his arms. Loid bent his head down, breathed in the smell of her- soft and warm and so, so safe- and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He fell asleep in record time, tangled up in her warmth; not once had he felt so at home with someone else.
“Good night, Loid,” Yor murmured, snuggling deeper into his chest before succumbing to sleep herself.
–
Loid woke to the foreign sound of Yor’s alarm clock with a loud sneeze. Yor jolted awake and stared at him in despair.
“Oh, joy,” he muttered. She laid a sympathetic hand on his arm.
“You stay here, Loid,” she grinned. “Now I can finally help you recover. And don’t you even think about going into work today!”
Loid hung his head.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Have it your way.”