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It’s the middle of the night—unpleasant, heavy, suffocating.
The air clings to the room, thick with heat and restlessness, making it hard to breathe properly. Everything feels too close, too warm, like the dark itself is pressing in, unwilling to let go.
Charlie wakes up feeling wrong.
Not dramatically wrong. Not in a way that immediately sets off alarms. Just… heavy. Like her limbs have been filled with wet sand, like her thoughts are wrapped in cotton. When she tries to sit up, the world tilts unpleasantly, and she lets out a small, offended sound before sinking back into the pillows.
“Nope” she mutters hoarsely. “Don’t like that”
Her throat burns. There’s a dull ache behind her eyes, and every breath feels a little too shallow, a little too sharp. She coughs - once, then again, curling slightly in on herself as the sound rattles in her chest.
From the other side of the bed, Vaggi is awake instantly.
She’s learned Charlie’s breathing patterns. The way she shifts when she’s restless. The difference between a sleepy sigh and something that isn’t right. She’s already sitting up by the time Charlie tries, and fails, to push herself upright.
“Hey, easy sweetie” Vaggi says softly, reaching out.
“I’m fine" Charlie insists immediately, even as she leans unconsciously into Vaggi's hand when it settles against her back. “Just—ugh—must be some stupid little hell-cold or something”
Vaggi rubs her eye. She places a hand on Charlie’s forehead.
“We need to check your temperature, baby. You’re hot"
Charlie’s lips stretch into a stupidly sexy smug smile.
“Oh, absolutely not"
She laughs quietly, the sound soft and breathy." It’s nothing” Charlie says, then coughs again, longer this time. Her shoulders slump.
Vaggi reaches for the thermometer in the cabinet on her side of the bed, then kneels in front of Charlie.
“Mouth” she says.
Charlie groans. “Traitor”
“Charlie, open"
She does, grumbling quietly around the thermometer. Vaggi waits, one hand still steady at Charlie’s back, grounding her. When it beeps, she checks the reading and sighs.
“Yeah. You have a fever”
Charlie squints at her. “How bad of a fever?”
“Enough that you’re not going anywhere today"
"But Vaggi—”
Charlie opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again when another wave of dizziness hits. She presses her lips together stubbornly, eyes glassy.
Vaggi fixes her with a Look.
Charlie deflates. “…Okay”
Vaggi helps her shift back against the pillows, tucking the blankets around her more securely. Charlie watches her through half-lidded eyes, something soft settling in her chest despite the misery curling through her body.
"Cuddles” Charlie murmurs, making grabby hands.
"Alright, princess” Vaggi snorts. “We can cuddle but first you need to eat something so you can take your meds”
Charlie pouts immediately, her lower lip sticking out in a dramatic little sulk.
“I’m not hungry yet” she murmurs. “Please… just stay a little longer”
She looks up at Vaggi through her lashes, pulling out her biggest, most pleading eyes.
Vaggi exhales, helplessly fond, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re impossible"
She lies back on the bed and gently guides Charlie with her, slowly turning her and settling her against her chest. Charlie melts into her at once, her head finding a comfortable place beneath Vaggi's chin. The pressure behind her eyes throbs dully, making her wince.
Vaggi lifts one hand and presses her thumb softly to Charlie’s temple, massaging slow, careful circles to ease the ache. Her other arm stays wrapped securely around Charlie, holding her steady. Under her breath, she hums a quiet, simple melody, barely more than a whisper.
Charlie’s shoulders relax little by little.
Vaggi leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Charlie’s forehead. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs. “Rest. Then we eat. Deal?”
Charlie nods faintly, eyes already drifting shut, comforted by the warmth.
When she wakes again, the room is still dim and quiet.
Vaggi hasn’t moved.
She’s sitting propped against the headboard, a book balanced easily in one hand while the other moves in slow, lazy strokes along Charlie’s back, mindless, affectionate, practiced. Perched on her nose are the glasses they bought together: the adaptive kind, designed to compensate when one eye can’t do all the work on its own. They look a little oversized on her, endearing. Charlie remembers how Vaggi pretended not to care when they picked them out, and then refused to take them off for the rest of the day.
Charlie blinks up at her, groggy. “How long was I out?”
Vaggi glances down immediately, expression softening. She closes the book and lets it rest in her lap. “About three… maybe four hours.”
Charlie’s eyes widen. She pushes herself upright too fast and the room lurches violently.
“Whoa—” she starts. “You stayed awake that whole time?”
Before she can tip over, Vaggi's hand is on her cheek, warm and steady, thumb brushing gently over flushed skin. She eases Charlie back down onto the bed carefully.
Vaggi shrugs lightly, still stroking her cheek. “I couldn’t sleep”
Charlie searches her face. “Why not?”
“I wanted to be here in case you woke up.” Vaggi says quietly.
“Vaggi…”
Charlie’s eyes fill with tears, sudden and bright, completely unrelated to how sick she feels.
“It’s really not that big of a deal” Vaggi adds quickly. “I promise I’ll catch up on sleep later”
Charlie lowers her head. She takes one of Vaggi’s hands gently and presses a kiss to her knuckles, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.
“You can’t keep doing this” she murmurs. “You have to take care of yourself too”
Before Vaggi can respond, Charlie looks up again, eyes earnest despite the fever haze.
“Promise it”
Vaggi exhales, defeated in the softest way. She leans down and steals a quick, gentle kiss to Charlie’s lips.
“I promise.”
Charlie immediately brings her fingers to her mouth, touching her lips, still warm.
“Vaggi! You’re going to catch this from me.”
Vaggi just shakes her head with a small smile. She sets the book aside on the nightstand beside the bed, then slips out from under the covers. She crouches down at Charlie’s side instead, one hand settling on her thigh, thumb tracing slow, reassuring shapes there.
“Worth it,” she says quietly. “Besides—I’m tougher than I look.”
Charlie lets out a weak laugh, her hand finding Vaggie’s hair instinctively.
"Do you still feel like you have a fever?”
Charlie doesn’t need to pause. Heat lingers in her cheeks, a quiet warmth that refuses to fade.
“I think so.”
Vaggi gives a small nod. She slips away into their shared bathroom and returns moments later with a towel. Sitting at the edge of the bed, she gently gathers the strands of hair resting against Charlie’s forehead, clearing her face. The cool fabric follows, pressed carefully to her skin.
Charlie exhales, long and deep.
“Ahh… that’s already better.”
“I should make you something to eat,” Vaggi says softly. “Maybe oatmeal?”
Charlie’s expression answers before she does. Vaggi understands. She remembers her own early days in Hell—fevers that stole her appetite, the way her body thinned when she ignored it.
“I know you don’t want to, love” Vaggi murmurs, turning the towel to its colder side. “But you need something. The meds will work better if you eat”
“Okay” Charlie relents. “Okay. I’ll try”
Vaggi begins to rise—
“Wait,” Charlie says quickly. “I want to come with you”
“Charlie, you should stay in bed. You’re dizzy"
But Charlie is already pushing herself upright. She manages a few steps before the world tilts, her hand finding the wall as her vision blurs. Vaggi's arm steady at her side.
“See?” Vaggi says. “Bed”
“Vaggi, please” Charlie says, quieter now. “I want to be close to you”
Vaggi really should work on her assertiveness. But it’s hard when Charlie says things like that.
“…Alright,” she sighs. “But we’re doing this my way.”
Charlie lifts a brow in question.
Vaggi slides an arm beneath her knees and another around her back, lifting her effortlessly.
“Vaggi!” Charlie protests, half-laughing, half-surprised.
“You’re not walking,” Vaggi says, already turning toward the door. “Not like this.”
Charlie gives up, fingers curling into the fabric of Vaggi’s shirt as they head down toward the hotel kitchen, her head resting against Vaggi’s shoulder, safe and warm the whole way.
“…You’re ridiculous,” she says, voice thick with emotion.
Vaggie leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Yeah. But you love me.”
“I really do.”
Vaggi helps her settle onto a chair near the counter, close enough that she can keep an eye on her, then turns to prepare breakfast. Charlie props herself up on her elbows, watching her move around the kitchen.
Vaggi has always been a good cook. For Charlie—who could somehow mess up even boiling water—it feels like a small miracle. The bar is low, sure, but her girlfriend truly has a gift, and her meals have quietly become Charlie’s favorites.
A sudden, harsh coughing fit takes Charlie without warning. Her head dips forward with the force of it, shoulders shaking as each breath burns. Her back aches from the strain, muscles tightening as the cough refuses to let go. Tears well in her eyes, uninvited, blurring her vision.
Vaggi drops the dishes instantly and is at her side, one hand steadying her, the other brushing away the tears gathering at her lashes. Charlie folds into her instinctively, shaking, then pulls back suddenly uncomfortable by the warmth.
“I’m sorry,” she tries to say—but another cough steals the words from her.
“I can’t—”
“It’s okay, love,” Vaggi says softly, staying right there. Her face is tight with worry, but her voice remains calm. “It’ll pass. Just breathe.”
The oatmeal Vaggi brings her lives up to its reputation—warm, comforting, full of fruit. Charlie doesn’t feel hungry, not really, but she forces down a few decent spoonfuls anyway.
“What about today’s activities?” Charlie asks quietly. “I was planning a group check-in… maybe some creative therapy in the lobby. I could still do it, right? I’ll sit down, I promise.”
Vaggi sighs, gentle but firm.
“Charlie, you know my answer. You should be in bed. I’ll handle things around the hotel today—don’t worry about it.”
Charlie frowns. “But—”
“No buts" Vaggi says, softer now. “Just rest. That’s your job today”
Later, Vaggi hands her a few pills and an impressively unpleasant cough syrup. Charlie pulls a face like she’s just bitten into a lemon.
“That is vile"
Vaggi snorts despite herself.
The heat doesn’t fully fade, but after a while the coughing eases, loosening its grip.
“I don’t get it,” Charlie murmurs. “I’m burning up, but I keep getting chills.”
Vaggi gives her a sympathetic look and wraps her up in a thick blanket before carrying her back toward their room.
“Maybe a shower would help" she suggests.
She steadies Charlie on her feet, keeping an arm around her waist, letting Charlie lean her full weight against her without comment.
“You might be right,” Charlie admits. She hopes she’ll be able to sleep again soon. She feels utterly drained, like the fever has hollowed her out.
Vaggi helps her out of her clothes, careful and unhurried, then gently works her fingers through Charlie’s hair, undoing the tangles. Charlie’s head stays resting against her shoulder the whole time, heavy there, content to let herself be held.
Then, with quick, familiar movements, Vaggi sheds her own clothes, setting them aside along with her eye patch. When she turns back, Charlie is watching her with a soft, tired smile.
“Hi, beautiful"
And Vaggi is so completely head over heels for this girl. “Hey you”
The bathroom fills with steam as Vaggi helps her into the shower.
“Tell me if you feel dizzy" she murmurs.
Warm water runs over Charlie’s shoulders. Vaggi carefully washes her hair, fingers slow and practiced, massaging gently as she works shampoo through golden strands. She rinses it out with care, smoothing her hands over Charlie’s scalp, over her arms, her back—every touch purposeful, tender.
“You’re doing great" Vaggi whispers. “I’ve got you”
She presses soft kisses to Charlie’s temple, her forehead, nothing rushed, nothing asked for—just comfort.
Charlie exhales and lifts a hand to her head, fingers pressing lightly at her temples.
“I hate feeling like this”
She blinks a few times, as if focus might come back if she asks nicely. It doesn’t. Vaggi leans in, her words murmured against Charlie’s cheek.
“I know it sucks, honey” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry you’re going through it”
By the time they step out, wrapped in towels and warmth, Charlie is heavy with exhaustion but calmer, safer.
Vaggi stays close, always close, guiding her back to their bed.
They lie on their sides facing each other, blankets pulled up around them. Their legs are loosely tangled, an easy, unconscious closeness. Charlie’s forehead rests against Vaggi’s, their heads touching, breaths syncing without either of them trying.
“Thank you. For taking care of me, for everything" Charlie whispers after a moment.
Vaggi exhales softly through her nose. “It’s nothing,” she says. “Really. Compared to everything you’ve already done for me? This is nothing”
Charlie pulls back just enough to look at her. Her expression is gentle, but firm.
“No. Don’t say that" she says quietly. “It’s not ‘nothing.’ You're increadible, Vaggi. I'm so lucky to have you"
That’s what breaks her.
Vaggi’s breath catches. She shifts closer and tucks herself beneath Charlie’s chin, hiding there as she wraps her arms tightly around her, holding on like she needs the anchor.
“Charlie" she says, voice rough but honest. “Being able to take care of you? That means more to me than you realize. I'm the lucky one"
Charlie stills, surprised. Then her shoulders soften, the tension easing out of her as if those words found exactly the right place. Even the fever seems to loosen its grip, just a little.
She breathes, melting into the embrace.
She presses a gentle kiss to the top of Vaggi’s head, lingering there, then rests her forehead and the crown of her head against her—close, warm, present.
They stay like that, tangled together, safe in the quiet.