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You wake up tangled in the blankets with Zayne, the first stretches of daylight barely peaking through the curtains. Yet, instead of the usual calm morning stretch, you’re met with a jolt of pain in your chest. You’re quick to sit up as you’re wracked by coughs, stirring Zayne from his slumber.
He’s instantly by your side, rubbing your back with one hand and the other gently pressed against your forehead to gauge the temperature. “You’re burning up,” he murmurs with a sharp frown, a statement and not a question.
You shake your head as the cough subsides, trying to shake off the growing aches. “It’s probably just a cold,” you swear, albeit with a hoarse voice. Zayne doesn’t seem convinced. He rises to reach into the bedside table, fumbling around for a moment before pulling out a thermometer.
“Open.” he chides, already clinical even as his hair falls over his eyes, tussled from sleep. Begrudgingly, you part your lips. Although you can’t help but lean into his touch as he settles in bed beside you, keeping you grounded as your head swims.
He peers at the device until it finally beeps. As the numbers calibrate, he disapprovingly tuts, “102. You’re staying home.” You let out a groan at his diagnosis, stifling a cough.
“A hunter never takes a day off,” you proclaim with tired indignation. “I’ve been sick before.” Zayne hugs you into his arms, stroking your head with gentle fingers. His lips are soft as he presses a kiss to your heated forehead.
“If you’re not at peak condition, you could get hurt,” he murmurs against your hair, grip tightening almost imperceptibly as if he could shield you from even the sickness. “As your doctor, and more importantly as your husband; I prescribe a day of warm tea and staying in bed.” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, still rough with sleep but warm in the sort of way he only reveals to you.
“Let me take care of you.” Your already reddened face somehow flushes even warmer at his words. Zayne had always kept an eye on your health, but ever since the two of you married and moved in together; you weren’t getting away with shaking off care.
“It has been a while since I had a day off,” you sheepishly admit, nestling into his chest. Your head numbly pounds, but the light coldness radiating from him soothes the ache.
“It’s settled then,” Zayne smiles against you. He nestles you into the bed, taking carefully slow movements like you might shatter in his hands. He wraps the blanket around your shoulders, leaning in to kiss your forehead once more. “Rest. I’ll go start the kettle.”
You instantly relax into the blankets, eyelids fluttering. Zayne smiles softly at you as he lingers in the doorway, before turning to enter the kitchen. You hear his footsteps falter for a moment as he taps on his phone, then his business voice rings out. “I can’t come in today, my wife is sick.”
He returns moments later, a platter in hand carrying steaming cups. “Medicine first, then tea,” he nods as he carefully settles back into bed, laying the platter between the two of you. His touch is gentle as his fingers clasp your cheeks, beckoning you closer for the spoonful of medicine.
“There you go, my love,” he murmurs as he tips the spoon past your lips. You grimace slightly at the taste, and he teasingly taps your frown. “It’ll make you feel better.” Before you can retort; another cough sneaks up on you, rattling the cutlery as you sit up.
“Let it out, that’s it,” Zayne gently soothes, rubbing circles into your back. You lean into his touch as it subsides, grateful for his broad chest to rest your head. He wordlessly hugs you closer, waiting for whatever you need.
“Thank you, Zaynie,” you weakly murmur, tea forgotten as you find home in his grasp. He chuckles softly at the nickname, running his fingers through your hair.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he assures in a hushed whisper, “I’ll always be here.”