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“I’m fine,” Micah grumbled, closing his eyes as you wiped his forehead down with a damp cloth.
“You’re stubborn is what you are,” you muttered back, dipping the cloth into the bowl of water again and bringing it back up, wiping the sweat and dirt from his face.
Micah had been separated from the group when you made the journey to Colter. Dutch had sent him scouting out ahead, and you didn’t know where he was for the longest time- if he got lost in the storm, if wolves got to him, anything. When he finally made his way back after he was found again by Dutch and Arthur, you checked on him immediately, causing his grumbling now.
A sniff caught your attention and you looked down at Micah where he sat, eyeing him suspiciously.
“I was right, you did get sick out there!” you accused, watching Micah try and cover up his sniffle with his sleeve.
“Please, I’m way too tough to be taken out by-”
Micah let out a sudden, loud sneeze, and the force of it knocked his hat right off his head. You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you bent down to the ground, picking up his hat for him while he recovered. You dusted the hat off and then placed it back on his head as he looked back up at you, scowling in embarrassment.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“Sorry,” you chuckled, tipping his hat back so you could better see his eyes. “But denying you’re sick gets you nowhere. You clearly picked up a little cold out there.”
“It’s nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, I guess you don’t need me to play nurse,” you sighed, sliding your hands off of him and taking a step back. You turned around and put your hands behind you, pretending like you would have left him there all by himself.
“Wait.”
You stopped, grinning to yourself as you heard Micah stop you, feeling his glove brush your fingers as he reached for your hand. You let him take your hand and stepped back, letting him pull you to stand in front of him. You turned and wrapped your free arm around his shoulders, squeezing his hand with your other.
“Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad,” he grumbled reluctantly, looking down at your joined hands.
You raised his hand joined with yours, bringing it up to your face as you gently kissed his knuckle through the thick leather. You heard Micah scoff, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, you’re pretty sure his colored cheeks were from more than just the cold of Colter.
“How about I go see about getting you something warm to eat?” you offered. “A warm meal can cure anything.”
“Sure, sweetheart,” he muttered, reluctantly dropping his hand and holding it in his lap with his other one, looking off to the side as he waited.
He could be so bashful sometimes, you mused to yourself as you turned to leave the cabin. Micah was a lot of talk, normally. Always throwing a flirt or crude comment your way, either trying to charm you or rile you up- it depended on how drunk he was at the time, really. But every time he was the slightest bit not himself, like when he was injured, he got all messed up when you tried to be gentle with him. Like he wasn’t expecting you to give a damn about him when he was ‘weak’.
You hiked through the snow, crossing camp to where Mr. Pearson had set up for now. You got a bowl of stew and tried to keep the wind from turning it cold on your way back to the men’s cabin. It was a small space for so many people, but the gang couldn’t be picky when it was the only shelter they could find.
You reentered the cabin, shutting out the snow on your way back in and making sure the door closed properly. It was a rickety old thing, and if you didn’t hit it just right, the wind could blow it back open.
The cabin was mostly empty at the moment. Bill and Javier were on watch, you think, and a few others were out hunting. You can’t remember right now, since you really only had your mind on one man.
Micah had stolen one of the few cots that was available in the cabin, resting on it as he laid his back against the wall. He somehow looked worse than when you left. Maybe he had finally dropped the ‘tough guy’ act as soon as you walked away, and was having a hard time pulling himself back together.
“You look horrible,” you commented as you made your way over, setting the bowl of stew down on a nearby table. You sat down beside Micah on the cot and took his hat off, setting it aside so you could get a better look at him.
“Tsk, is that any way to… talk to me,” he mumbled, sounding a little worse for wear.
You grabbed the wet cloth from earlier and ran it over his forehead again, watching as he leaned into your touch this time. You cupped his cheek with your free hand as you wiped the sweat from his face. Micah relaxed slightly as the cloth cooled him down, letting out a little sniffle.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled again, keeping his eyes closed as he let you wash his face.
“Mhm, sure you are,” you hummed, setting the cloth down to free your hand up so you could brush the hair out of his face. “Did you take anything?”
Micah shook his head, but not hard enough to shake you off.
“Dumbass,” you murmured affectionately. “Do you want me to see if there’s anything left in the supplies?”
“No,” he mumbled. “Not right now. Aren’t you supposed to be playing nurse?”
“Hm?”
Micah grumbled something you couldn’t hear, leaning forward until his weight was pushing you back. You remained steady, keeping one hand on his back to keep you both from falling off the cot.
“Micah Bell, I would almost think you’d want me to take care of you,” you teased.
“No,” he huffed out the clear lie.
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter what you want,” you went on, reaching past him to pick up the bowl of stew again.
Micah shifted a bit to not lean so heavily against you, watching as you set the bowl of stew in your lap and scooped up a spoonful.
“I do not need to be spoonfed,” he grumbled.
“Why? Does having a pretty girl that close to you make you nervous, Micah?” You fluttered your eyelashes innocently at him.
“Who said you were pretty— ow,” Micah grunted when you elbowed him. “Fine, fine… feed me… if that’s what you want,” he mumbled.
“You’re an awful, stubborn man,” you sighed, stirring the stew and then scooping up a spoonful again, this time bringing it to Micah’s lips. “But I love you.”
Micah shot you a softer look when you admitted that, and he gave in to accept the spoonful of stew you fed him, chewing quietly before he swallowed.
“Yeah, yeah… me too,” he muttered softly, glancing away briefly as his face warmed up from either bashfulness or fever. “About you.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, bringing another spoonful of stew up.
You knew he was perfectly capable of feeding himself, but this made you feel like you were doing something important. Without medicine, there wasn’t much you could do to help Micah when he was under the weather. Feeding him made you feel like you were making a difference in his condition, no matter how small.
By the time the stew was finished, Micah was sniffling again from his cold. You set the bowl aside and pulled a handkerchief out of your pocket, handing it off to him.
“Thank you,” he muttered softly, blowing and wiping his nose. “Maybe I am a bit… sick,” he admitted sheepishly, ducking his head a little.
“You should rest,” you reasoned, feeling his forehead again. It didn’t feel like he had a fever, which was a relief.
“Is my nurse gonna watch over me?”
You chuckled, wrapping an arm around Micah’s shoulders. He took the prompt and shifted on the cot, bringing his legs up and laying down across it with his head in your lap, your leg providing a comfortable pillow for him.
Micah closed his eyes, his fist closed around the fabric of your clothes as he let out a weary sigh, finally letting himself get some much needed rest to sleep off this cold. With your hands running through his hair, sleep came easily.