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Jafar was laying in bed their bed with a sickly look to him, he had temperature and couldn't stop sneezing, in the isle there was no doctors, one was lucky to find some decent herbs for a tea in there, he coughed and looked at their partners, who looked more annoyed than worried, but he could see the way all their eyes drifted to him every time he coughed particularly hard.
They never truly said “I love you”; it was more a “I don't hate you” kind of relationship, to be fair none are sure what love is like for starters.
Cruella was sitting in the foot of the bed, filing her nails vainly, without acknowledging Jafar, but present, Grimhilde was mixing up the herbs she stole, checking the temperature as if it was the most important potion she's made, while Maleficent was looking at Jafar directly, her reptile looking eyes barely bothering with blinking every once in a while, guarding over him like a gargoyle.
— Polychrome hag, you're crushing my feet, move!
Jafar calls out with a scoff, annoyed at his partner, Cruella looks at him, mimicking his annoyance,
— You got this into yourself, Jafar, should've taken more care of yourself!
Cruella bites back, turning back to her nails, silently moving a little so they're not crushing Jafar.
—Quiet you two, can't you spend one hour not being a headache for everyone around you?
Maleficent groans, rubbing her temple, still not taking her eyes off Jafar. She approaches him with the serpentine movement that was characteristic of her walk.
— Are you feeling worse?
She dismissed, putting her hand on his forehead, checking for temperature, and caressing his face discreetly
— If you infect me with whatever it is you have, you're a dead man, Jafar
Maleficent glances back at Grimhilde, who was just finishing the herb tea, she poured it into a cup and handed it over to Jafar, whose touch lingered in the queen's manicured hand for a few seconds too long
— Don’t you dare touch me, I can't get sick, sneezing causes wrinkles
Grimhilde says, but she doesn't immediately let go of his touch, grabbing the headboard of the bed carefully, looking at him.
— I'll go grab some more tissues
Jafar declares before starting to get up, Grimhilde looks completely and utterly offended by such an idea, pushing him back to bed with a huff
— Don't you- I'll get some for you..
The Queen walks towards a cabinet where they kept the tissue boxes, getting him the box with a strange gentleness. The four of them knew they would do this if any of the other fell sick too, caring for the one that couldn't care for themself… in their own weird way of course
While none of them knew what love was, if they had known, they would have been able to recognise this as it was.