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Blinking wearily, Bernhard sighed loudly as he finished blowing his nose for the umpteenth time. The tissue box was running a little empty, and he felt he really would just flop to the floor if he tried to get some more from across their bedroom.
As if he could get up anyway. Firmly tucked into bed, the duvet felt less like a comfortable weight and more like a solid anchor, keeping him down. He sniffled again. Despite having literally been there when this bed was picked to be slept in, something about it felt off now. It might have been because of his sickness and stuffy nose, but Bernhard couldn't find a way to settle into the mattress properly, having woken up tossing and turning alone in bed and now unable to try to sleep again.
It was a little late to sleep for his standards anyway, the distant sounds of something downstairs keeping him awake as well.
The Swede sniffled, moving his tired arm up to cover his eyes, resting over his face. Fatigue dripped from his movements, exhaling when he attempted to adjust the duvet.
“Ohhh fluffycake!” a voice sang from the corridor, along with a flurry of fast steps on the carpet. Bernhard groaned, taking the heavy arm off his head just in time to see Magnus round the corner. He thundered into the room with a bottle of medicine, a glass of water and a bowl of… something. Judging by the clattering and muffled curses he'd been hearing from the kitchen for the last 20 minutes, Bernhard wasn't really sure if he wanted to know what was in it.
Looking a little too energetic for the time of morning, Magnus set the bowl onto the chest or draws by their bed, and fished something from his pocket. “How’s my big strong Ber doing?” he asked, unscrewing the bottle’s lid to slowly pour some into the little spoon he produced moments ago, watching to make sure it didn't spill.
“Ungh,” Bernhard croaked in response, voice cracking a little scratchiness in his throat. He blinked harshly, not really enjoying the uncomfortable warmth of his face and the cold of his body.
“Tell me about it," the Dane nodded, eyebrows knitted in sympathy when he knelt down. Bernhard suddenly noticed he was donning a small nurse's hat, clipped onto his wild hair. He smiled a little.
He didn't smile when Magnus held the spoon near his mouth. “Come on big guy, something special for you after this…” he cooed. Bernhard wanted to wipe that smirtle off his face, but resisted; lest another war between them break out. “Here comes the aeroplane,” Magnus grinned, wiggling the spoon up and down, “Neeeooww…”
He held a hand under the spoon, so it didn't drip. Something about the action made Bernhard’s heart melt some.
The stupid smirk on his face was too bright to ignore anyway. Try as he might, Bernhard couldn't resist it and reluctantly creaked his mouth open, allowing Magnus to nudge it past Bernhard’s lips.
He regretted it immediately, the sharp bitterness stabbing at his tongue. It was beyond disgusting; with the consistency of tar and physical appeal of a cobweb, it lived up to its poisonous appearance. Bernhard scrunched his face up at the revolting taste, and strained to not hack it up.
Magnus looked a little too amused at how Bernhard’s face contorted into a grimace from the taste, and the Swede thought that if he had even an ounce more strength, he would've done something heinous to the other’s eyes, that may or may not have involved the evildoing spoon. Though he gratefully downed the glass of warm water Magnus handed him, paying no mind at how he tittered quietly.
But nothing else came of Magnus’ smug face, so he willed himself to relax, sinking a little further into the bed, though it still didn't feel quite right. He readjusted his pillow to no avail, and hissed blearily when Magnus burst the curtains open with such fervour you'd think he were parting the red sea. They had already been open just a slither, Bernhard’s limbs being too noodle-like to do it himself.
Magnus laughed at how he squinted in the sunlight, despite his glasses. Bernhard wished he didn't have the decency that was currently stopping him from sneezing on the other.
But he was glad he didn't when Magnus pulled up a chair by his bedside and held the bowl from before. Now, a much more pleasant smell filled Bernhard, and he had to stop his mouth from watering. Risgrynsgröt! Scents of cinnamon sticks, soaked in sweet, creamy milk and vanilla and an afterthought of butter wafted towards him when Magnus blew on a much more enticing spoon, and held it at him.
Bernhard made a move, his jelly arms suddenly filled with the motivation only luxuriously milky rice porridge could muster, but stopped when the Dane gestured for him to stop.
“Ah ah ah,” Magnus tutted, wagging his finger. “You're sick,” he supplied, as if that explained anything. And maybe it was Bernhard’s fault for being sick in a house with Magnus, but when he finally realised what the other planned to do, looking up and seeing a coy grin, chock full of faux innocence, he found himself either too tired or smitten to care. He sighed in light hearted acceptance and opened his mouth again.
The simmered rice had cooked magnificently in the full fat milk, perfectly creamy and thick in Bernhard’s mouth. He almost melted from pure decadence- slightly caramelised sugar combining perfectly with the warm comfort of cinnamon. And the rich finish of salted butter gave the perfect balance to the velvety rice porridge. Magnus had done an excellent job with it, probably having made sure the sugar wasn't burnt, and Bernhard could even taste the familiar support of vanilla, at the end of the beautiful mouthful.
He hummed in appreciation. The fact Magnus had probably spent a good moment simmering the creamy rice, had chosen the salted butter just as Bernhard preferred, and even knew so well as to not add raisins as many recipes called for made his heart throb lovingly. Added to the fact that the infamously impatient Dane was now spoon feeding him his second, third moutful, patiently waiting in between each mouthful without rushing him meant more to Bernhard than he could ever say, and basked in the tenderness of it all.
“Thank you,” Bernhard nasally said in between spoonfuls, earnestly meaning it.
And perhaps seeing Magnus’ face when he said that was the sweetest thing of all.
Minutes of joyful chewing later and Bernhard had had his fill. He reclined back against his pillow again and sleepily (and a tad reluctantly) allowed Magnus to head back downstairs to do the washing up, after he kindly plumped his up pillow. He chuckled a little to himself, watching the clipped on nurse's hat bob as he walked.
As the hushed sound of dishes and the Dane’s muffled self-talk from the kitchen flitted into the room and reached the ill Swede who resided on the side furthest from the door and closest to the window, he hummed in satisfaction. Breakfast from Magnus was no easy feat. Sure, the guy could cook just fine, but something that required the keen eye and tolerance like watching a simmering pot of porridge for a while, really wasn't his forte. It really meant a lot to Bernhard that he's gone through the effort of doing all of this.
He also found himself growing increasingly tired. It seemed the warm breakfast was exactly what he needed to settle some of his internal discomfort, allowing for last night’s restless sleep to finally catch up to him. After a while had passed, and trying desperately not to nod off, maybe because he wanted someone here, maybe not, the Swede reclined further into his pillow and sniffed again, sighing deeply.
His ears focused however when the faraway sound of water stopped, and soon a quick patter of steps flurried up the stairs, before they paused by the bedroom door.
His eyes bulged when he felt a weight on the other side of the bed and shuffling towards him, and turned to find Magnus’ own face centimetres from his own. His ginger blonde hair almost glowed in the light, making his blue eyes shine. Lying on his own pillow made some strands gently curl into the fabric, framing his kind face with soft tufts of blonde. The rosyness of his cheeks couldn't be denied, highlighting his sun kissed freckles. For a few delicate moments, they both lay still, gazing at one another, their breath soft against each other's cheek. Bernhard felt his heart quicken, face heating up for reasons other than his sickness, and a selfish part of himself wanted to wrap his arms around the other, and stay tenderly, eyes full of his lover, forever.
“You'll get sick too if you keep being close, ya know,” Bernhard crooned quietly, grimacing at how his voice sounded like sandpaper lined his throat. The description fitted how it felt too. Every sound he made felt strenuous, even when he tried to soften them. The urge to cough was huge now but he didn't want to sicken the Dane as well, even if it seemed a little inevitability when Magnus let his arm lie over Bernhard.
“Aww, you do care about me!” Magnus laughed, eyes crinkling from his smile. Bernhard tried to look away, and still blushed.
“Hey, just don't want ‘ta get you ill,” he attempted, but had to sit up suddenly to cough into the crook of his elbow, facing away from the Dane. Magnus winced a little in understanding at how the cough rattled through him, and sat up to join him, an arm wrapping around his back to rub his shoulder sympathetically.
“That’s enough of your complaints,” he soothed kindly when Bernhard finally stopped and tenderly held his face, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and gently removing his glasses. Magnus placed them on the nightstand behind him, and with the arm still wrapped around the Swede, brought them back down to lay again. Now, Bernhard lay in Magnus’ grasp, letting himself be comfortably held against his strong chest.
He leaned against his worn jumper, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The fabric tickled his cheek a little, soft and loved.
“Well I was watching this crazy show before,” Magnus began, voice warm and resonant like always. Due to being so close to him though, Bernhard thought he sounded especially rich and tender, which he greatly enjoyed. It was very comforting, and it sounded like his lover was all around him. He wasn't quite sure what he was saying but was more than happy to listen.
“This time one of the guys was talking about how he wanted someone eliminated, if he could pick anyone to be, just ‘cos he made fun of him in like 1998 or something. And I was thinking ‘Come on! That's just ridiculous!’ It was barmy too ‘cos then he started talking about his worst habits and…” Magnus nattered, as happy to talk about nothing particularly at all as usual. His voice carried a humorous lilt, sometimes doing what Bernhard assumed to be impressions of the people he was talking about. He just hummed along, blissful in the warm safety between his arms, savouring the feeling of Magnus’ chest vibrating with every sound.
Through Magnus’ chatter, Bernhard felt himself grow tired again. He huffed smally, finally feeling himself sink and relax into the bed after so long of trivial discomfort. The leftover discomfort in his throat from his small coughing fit was out of his mind now, soothed by Magnus’ words and presence. He breathed deeply- despite his current condition, the familiar scents of citrus, sea salt and soft leather still surrounded him through his muffled sense of smell.
A large hand gently twirled his hair, gently scratching at it sometimes and lulling him into sleep. By now, Magnus’ pleasant chatter had faded into the background, and Bernhard was more than thankful to find that Magnus didn't seem to mind. It was probably thanks to his sickness that the Swede didn't realise this was purposely done.
No matter, Bernhard was much too tired and much too comfortable in the familiar space of his lover to care much at this point.
The bed was always more comfortable with Magnus here.