Willan #2
“Thank you.” I say, when he fusses over everything to make sure that nothing will spill.
He doesn’t look at me, just licks his lips, giving me a quick glimpse of his bloodied fang.
Obviously he’s had some blood while getting everything ready.
It’s why he doesn’t look as peakish now.
I capture his wrist in my weak grasp to make him look at me. “Seriously, I appreciate this. A lot.”
He rolls his lips over his teeth, but he can’t hide his smile.
“It’s nothing.” He shakes off the praise, then nods at the bed. “Scoot over.”
Not that I really can, which is why he rounds the bed to the other side and climbs on carefully until he’s lying on his side next to me, head propped up on one hand, the other carefully cradling his half-empty blood.
It’s times like this I’m really grateful for my penchant for decorating with black. There’s less chance of stains.
I nod at his—or rather my—pyjama pants, currently straining over his thick thighs. Lucky pants. “Always trying to get in my pants aren’t you?”
“Don’t you know it.” Nikolo smiles cheekily at me, even throwing in a little wink, but there is a hint of self consciousness.
He’s trying to be too casual about it. Which is probably why he rushes to explain.
“I came straight from work. I was a bit gross, so I needed to borrow something. And I used your shower, too.”
I get it. This—him being here, taking care of me—it’s new unchartered territory in this new relationship we’re exploring. It really should feel like a big step, or at least bigger than it does. Really, it just feels… right.
“Seriously, it’s fine.” Smiling, I lay a hand on his and make sure to look him in the eye. “Now, is this your mum's tea?”
Nikolo grins cheekily. “Sure is. You had some last night, too.”
“Gods.” I groan, my voice starting to fade. “I thought I dreamt that.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for, Willanator. To make your dreams come true.” Thank the Gods he doesn’t know how true that is. Or maybe he does, and he means it. “Do you need me to feed you?”
I really, really don’t, but I’m not about to let this opportunity pass. I smile softly at him, letting my weight fall back into the pillows. “Would you?” I weakly lift my arms. “My arms are so tired.”
That may have been overplaying my hand, but Nikolo snickers good naturedly and plays along, spoon feeding me the dumpling soup he apparently made himself and helping me drink the tea until I’m full and feeling kind of sick again—though still a lot better.
“Enough!” I cry out playfully. “I can’t take anymore.” Nikolo coaxes me into one more bite before he takes the tray away.
“So, what do you need?” He asks, coming straight back to my side.
“You don’t have to help me, you know.” But I’m really enjoying the attention I add to myself.
“Yeah,” he shrugs like it’s nothing, “but I want to.”
Well, go ahead and bury me now. I must be dead. My heart squeezes painfully and if my eyes begin to water, it’s only because my sinuses are so inflamed they’re pushing on my tear ducts.
“Did you want to have a shower?” He hovers like a hummingbird by the side of the bed, fussing at the blankets like he needs to keep moving, doing whatever he can to make me better.
Through watery eyes, I glare at him playfully. “You’re just trying to get me naked aren’t you?” I try to sniff derisively, but regret it because my nose is blocked. “Dirty perv.”
Smiling broadly, Nikolo winks, patting my thigh and giving it a squeeze. “Only for you.”
Well then. I roll my lips over my teeth, refusing to give in to the wheezing cough threatening to ruin the way Nikolo is looking at me with tender affection. “Let’s do it.”
Showering is exhausting. Everything is exhausting. I’m slow, and weak, turning into a limp noodle after the slightest effort. The more effort I exert, the more my brain turns to mush.
Through it all, Nikolo is there by my side. Delicate fingers unpick the tangled mess of my braids before brushing it out and expertly washing it. Caring hands lather me in soap, turning me this way and that under the water to clean all the suds off of me.
His naked body, slick from the water, taunts me as he rubs against me under the shower.
Despite his half chubbed dick, it’s not sexual.
It’s comforting—especially when he leans my back into his chest, coaxing my head to turn so my cheek rubs his forehead, the water running over my chest while he pets and rubs me like a cat.
Once I’m clean, he props me on the toilet with a towel around my body and another on my hair before he quickly dries and dresses himself in more of my sleep pants before he does the same for me. By the time I’m dressed in fresh briefs again I’m half asleep and he nearly has to carry me back to bed.
“Good thing you’re so strong.” I mumble when he tucks me in again. Only it’s harder this time, because I feel the need to paw at his arms. “Love your arms. And these tattoos. So pretty.”
I say the last bit with a pat to the face that could probably be condescending, I’m not entirely sure, and it doesn’t matter because I’m asleep before he can say anything.
When I wake up, I have no idea what the time is, or how long I’ve been out. Nikolo is still here, though, half trapped beneath me where I’ve wiggled on top of him to drool on his belly.
“Mpf, I’sorry.” I grunt, rubbing at the wet patch of tattooed skin.
“S’all good. The snoring, though. The snoring I’m not sure I can forgive.” Nikolo teases with a gentle laugh, before he begins to gently stroke my hair. It feels incredible. The patting, not my hair. It was still damp when I fell asleep and now it’s a rat’s nest again.
“I don’t snore.” I’m pretty sure I don’t, anyway. But I’m doubting it now because my throat is still killing me.
“Yeah, you do. Shook the whole building basically. Egbert messaged me to ask if you were somehow better and doing magic.” He’s laughing at his own stupidity before he’s even finished.
I try to shove at him, but I’m too weak and he feels too nice, so really I just grope at his side. “You’re an idiot.”
Nikolo gently pushes me back, and we end up in the world’s most pathetic wrestling match.
Unfortunately, I begin to laugh, and then that turns into a wheeze which ends up with a coughing fit that Nikolo strokes my back through.
While I’m coughing, a thought occurs to me and I try to get it out, even though I can’t breathe.
“Wait—does—Eg—know—you’re—here—how—get—in? ”
“Gods, stop trying to talk.” Nikolo fusses, forcing me upright. “But yeah, he knows. I got the stuff for your tea from Kroy and he messaged Egbert to let me in. Not sure he remembers, though. He was half asleep when he let me in. Is that a problem?”
I take his advice and don’t try to reply, but shake my head vigorously to get my point across.
“Good. Kai will be by soon.” Nikolo picks up his phone, where he’s been watching something while I was passed out.
“Why?” I croak out.
“To drop me some stuff.” Gently but firmly he coaxes me back onto his chest, his fingers immediately finding their way through the tangle of my hair to massage my scalp.
I hate to repeat myself, but I do it anyway. “Why?”
“Because if I’m staying until you’re better, I need some stuff.
” Vampires can’t sigh, but I can definitely hear the attitude in his voice.
Defiant, like he’s ready for me to argue.
Joke’s on him, even if I wasn’t too sick to fight, I wouldn’t.
Having him here taking care of me is just too damned nice.
“Oh.” I say instead.
“Yeah.” He says softly, fingers tracing the hair around my ear. “Want me to braid your hair? I can’t, like, do the magic, but at least I can get it out of your way? Keep it neat.”
If I hadn’t fallen in love with him at five years old when I saw him doing the most basic tricks on a skateboard he and my brother stole from some kid down the mountain, I would fall in love with him right now, at this moment. I realise with a sudden swooping feeling.
Just one more thought to lock up for when this illness finally leaves me.
“I’d love that.” Never a truer word has been spoken.
After I point out that my ritual room has no windows, Nikolo makes a bed for himself in there, only going to his hideaway after I swear black and blue that I'll be fine.
I severely underestimated both how sick I am and how much it sucks to be this sick without someone fussing over me.
I only last an hour before the body chills, muscle aches, and general feeling of awfulness has me shuffling to the kitchen to make a tea that has me passing out. Unfortunately, I also overestimated the dosage.
My second night of being sick is a vague, half conscious montage of sickness and Nikolo.
Nikolo forcing me to wake up. Nikolo coaxing me to drink more of his tea. Nikolo having rushed, whispered, anxious conversations on the phone, where I hear my name a lot.
Then there are other things that are just as comforting as when he holds me close and kisses my head. Like hearing him stretching. Or the vibrating hum of something, somewhere in my apartment. The sounds of someone existing in my space intersperse my awakenings.
When sunrise nears, he holds me at ransom—only agreeing to go to the ritual room to rest if I agree to not take the tea. We compromise on him making the tea, to Egbert’s specifications.
Which is probably why by the time he wakes up on the third night, I’m feeling well enough to be semifunctional.
We both pretend I’m not.
Nikolo insists on fussing over me and I let him.
Because not only have I figured out that I don’t mind getting to be a bit of a princess, I am still pretty pathetic.
I am feeding myself now, though. And I even manage to walk to the toilet on my own without needing to have a rest in the hallway on the way back.