Work Text:
“Is he still asleep? He's usually up at this hour.”
“Maybe he had a late night? He does have trouble falling asleep...”
The distant hum of conversation paused alongside the footsteps with a knock on his door. He must have managed some kind of sound sufficing as agreement in response to their query on entering. The next thing he knew, the covers were being tugged off him and a gentle hand placed against his forehead.
“He's burning up.”
“Sweetheart, have you eaten anything?”
He nodded, then reconsidered – did it count as eating if he puked it up afterwards? Since they had made and left food for him in the fridge, he'd made himself reheat it and eat, not wanting to waste their effort. His stomach had rebelled, however, and it hadn't stayed down. He then shook his head and gestured in the general direction of the toilet, hoping his point got across.
Even the small action worsened the pounding in his head, and he closed his eyes again. The hand on his forehead had shifted to an arm around his shoulders, which guided him carefully to lean against a solid torso. Part of him wanted them closer, wanted to be held. But another part was grateful for their adherence to his rule of not entering his nest without permission. Aventurine hadn't taken it seriously initially, and he hadn't been able to sleep without cleaning his sheets. After he'd been caught sneaking out to wash them in the middle of the night, he'd never done so again.
“I'll make some soup and you get him cooled down?”
“Yes, alright. A cold bath would probably be the fastest way...”
He couldn't muffle the chirp of distress before it escaped, or his instinctive flinch, bracing for the punishment that always followed.
“Or perhaps wet towels first, hmm?”
He managed a tiny nod in response, even if he inwardly grimaced at the thought of the texture against his sensitive skin. The lesser of two evils and all. The tone was notably gentler than his usual, but no other comment followed. His reaction had been too obvious to miss. Knowing the doctor, it was probably noted down for discussion at a later date. But he was thankful for the reprieve. Opening up about his childhood was never pleasant. It helped in the long term, he supposed, like lancing a boil.
But rehashing those memories were hardly conducive to recovery, considering the nightmares that always came along with them. Part of the reason he'd fallen sick had probably been due to the lack of sleep he'd had these few days. It hadn't been intentional. He'd struggled with insomnia as far back as he could remember. It was remedied by what he'd later been told was an unhealthy reliance on sleeping pills. It wasn't precisely cured, but he did tend to sleep better with them around. The reminder that he wasn't alone anymore, perhaps.
The house had felt so quiet without them that he'd left the TV on as background noise, trying his best not to just fall back into the habit of popping pills. It hadn't worked, though. Not drinking chamomile tea or hot milk, or shifting locations, or playing the classical music the doctor favoured. He'd probably knocked out from sheer exhaustion after his failed attempt at eating. His memories were hazy, but he did have a vague recollection of stumbling into bed. As much as he hated leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight, he'd been too drained after puking to even attempt washing up.
He must have lost some time while thinking, because the next thing he felt was a cool glass being held to his lips. He managed a few sips, the honey mixed in making it easier to swallow. The doctor seemed to have taken a quick shower as well, which quietened the part of Sunday's brain yelling about cleanliness enough for him to wordlessly tug him into his nest. The hard planes of his muscles didn't exactly make for a comfortable replacement to the pillows, but the familiar scent and arms securely wound around him more than made up for it.
He felt a cold towel being draped over his neck. The sensation was unpleasant, but it had been carefully wrung dry so he didn't have to put up with water dripping down his back. Aventurine arrived with a bowl of chicken soup soon after. He must have left it to cool for a while, since it was no longer steaming hot but at the perfect temperature for eating.
He submitted to being spoon fed without much protest. Given how shaky he felt, trying to manage on his own would likely end up with him spilling it over the bed. He shook his head when he felt he was at his limit. The spoon was removed without further attempts to press him to eat more.
“Would it help if I got into the bath with you?”
It seemed like the topic from earlier had been merely tabled until he'd finished eating. He supposed the suggestion wasn't completely unwarranted. He'd been shivering lightly even with the doctor's body heat behind him, and he felt alternately too warm and too cold.
“Ratio can change the sheets and grab you new pajamas to change into in the meantime.”
Although he'd been volunteered for the task without his opinion being asked, the doctor made no objection. With the added incentive, he reluctantly assents and was met with a broad grin. Aventurine held out his hand, and he reached out and grasps it. Though he was frankly uncertain that he would be able to walk to the bathroom, even with assistance. Thankfully, it had apparently been more of a symbolic gesture. Once he was on his feet, Ratio promptly scooped him up into his arms. His face burned as a nipple poked into his cheek, although the doctor himself seemed not to have noticed.
Aventurine, however, did. He must have whispered some teasing remark into Ratio's ear, judging by the blush he could see spreading down the doctor's neck. The situation served as sufficient distraction until they entered the bathroom, and the already filled tub came into view.
The memories of being held down into ice cold water grew more vivid. The way his feathers had been drenched and the weight had only served to drag him down more quickly. How he'd gulped enough water that he'd been convinced he would drown, the way he had gasped and choked once he'd been allowed up for air. He began struggling weakly, even if he knew there wasn't any point.
Contrary to his expectations, they stopped moving. A pair of warm hands curled around his where they'd been clutching at his feathers. Kisses were dropped onto his fingertips, until he was coaxed into releasing the feathers from his grip. The doctor had both his arms occupied holding Sunday, so he simply shifted him closer, so his ears are pressed against his steady heartbeat.
“We're here, you're safe.”
Aventurine had a skill for charming anyone he met, but he was serious when it counted. The sincerity shone through in the reassurances crooned into his ear. He stepped into the bath first, and his waiting arms were quick to replace Ratio's once he was lowered into the water. Shampoo was rubbed into his hair, the steady circles on his scalp lulling despite the chill. Miraculously, he must fall asleep somehow. The next time he woke, he was in his nest, surrounded on both sides by his partners. He drifted back off to sleep, safe in their embrace.