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somber-sapphic · 25 days ago

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With The Lights On

〚 Notes - *floating down from the heavens* I have returned…. Real note, I had to finish up my last exam but now I’m all done and should be getting back to writing! Yay :D this is more whump with a side of sickfic so lil bit of a heavy one here - TW for implied child death 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - A mission doesn’t go well and you find yourself in a late night encounter with one particular redhead. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 2340 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Today had been a rough day for everyone. The whole team had been on the last leg of a week long mission, trying to track down an international trafficking link - one which according to Fury’s intel had been trading a serum similar to the one Steve had taken. Only it was botched, horrifically, and had been causing quite graphic mutations to the subjects which it had been unwillingly tested upon. While the team had managed to take out those in charge of the ring - completing the mission in the eyes of Shield - most of the subjects, primarily the younger ones, couldn’t be saved. And the ones that were left… well the only right thing to do was to end their suffering.

It was late by the time an aircraft was ready to pick the team up. Usually the ride home would be full of cheers and laughter, the team relishing in the job. The jet was silent. While, yes, the mission had been completed, nobody saw this as a victory.

Natasha had been looking especially worse for wear. When you glanced over you caught her at the tail end of what must’ve been a perfectly stifled sneeze as she raised her head from her elbow. You thought nothing of it but couldn’t help but notice how her eyes clouded over as she went back to staring unfocused at the floor.

“You doing okay over there Red?” You asked quietly, not wanting to break the thick silence which had settled in the aircraft. Nat didn’t seem to register your words but after a few seconds she nodded, barely lifting her head enough to look you in the eye. Something was off.

The jet landed just before sunrise. Everyone went their separate ways, mumbling quiet goodnights or skipping them entirely. Nobody was in the mood to stick around and chat - you couldn’t blame them. All you wanted to do yourself was to crawl under your covers and forget the whole situation but you weren’t fond of the dreams you knew would follow you there.

Lying in bed, you could do nothing more than stare at the ceiling, unwillingly to close your eyes longer than a minute. Doomscrolling on your phone didn’t seem to help either, neither did any of the crappy games you had installed on it too.

You sigh and throw the phone onto the nightstand with a dull thud, scrubbing your hands over your face. Your skin feels sticky with sweat and grime and exhaustion, but the thought of showering feels like a task better suited for tomorrow. A small gurgle from your stomach caught your attention, reminding you that you hadn’t really had much to eat all day - not that you had much of an appetite anyway - but the small action of getting up and making something to eat seemed like a better idea than just staring up into the looming dark void above that you called a ceiling.

With a small groan, you dragged yourself out of bed and pulled on the closest hoodie before shuffling down towards the kitchen. The compound was eerily quiet this time of night, the dark hallways barely illuminated by moonlight seeping in through the wide windows.

You padded into the kitchen, the hallway carpet turning to cool tiles beneath your feet as you reached for the light switch. The room flashed with that harsh white LED brightness. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the brightness - and nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden figure which appeared in your eyeline.

Leaning over the island countertop, silent and still, like a damn ghost in the dark. Natasha blinked slowly at you, barely reacting to your startled yelp. Her usual immaculate posture was gone; she was hunched over slightly - not sitting - one elbow propped on the counter, fingers loosely curled around the drink she’d been nursing.

“Christ!” You fought back a yelp, taking a breath to steady your racing heartbeat back to a regular rhythm as you lowered your tone, “Bloody hell Romanoff, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing lurking down here in the dark?”

“I could ask you the same.” She mumbled, her voice thick as she spoke slowly. Her eyes were glassy and cold, failing to hide the heavy bags beneath them. She looked exhausted and not just in the simple post-mission fatigue. Now that you looked closer, it was like she hadn’t slept properly in days.

It was then you noticed the tissue box sitting close by. In other any situation you wouldn’t have thought twice but you had specifically cleaned the kitchen just before leaving so you knew those hadn’t been there earlier. Had she been crying?

You took the seat to her left, noting the distinct smell of whiskey on her breath as you sat down. The half empty bottle gave away more than she’d have preferred. She’d been down here for a while.

Natasha sniffled, the tip of her nose twitching ever so slightly as she subtly rubbed the one of her knuckles beneath it. It seemed as if she almost debated reaching for a tissue but thought against the action.

But the battle with her body hadn’t quite been won. Whatever had been bothering her seemed to return with vengeance only mere moments later forcing her to stifle two restrained sounding sneezes against the back of her palm.

Those flushed cheeks weren’t just from the alcohol then…

You were half sure you’d heard her mutter the smallest “dammit” under her breath. It was the tiniest whisper. Like she hadn’t meant for anyone to hear it. Like she was annoyed with herself for… sneezing, maybe. Or shivering. It was almost as if she was fighting with her own body for simply being human. She had been taking another sip of her drink when you finally asked, “Have you taken anything for this cold yet?”

“What cold?”

Ah. So this was how it was going to go. You see, Natasha had two ways of dealing with being ill - none of which led to her getting any sort of rest.

Nat would either retreat entirely from the team, hardly being seen for days as she hid in some far corner of the compound, refusing to be acknowledged by anyone. Or, as it seems she was doing now, she would deny any and all accusations of her being even the slightest bit under the weather and simply carry on her day as if nothing was wrong - because the black widow could never catch the sniffles.

“You sound like shit Romanoff.” You said simply, raising an eyebrow when she reached for the almost-empty whiskey bottle again.

She paused for a moment, but continued nonetheless as she refilled her glass and took a long sip. Natasha wasn’t a clumsy person by any means but as she set the bottle back down on the counter, her hand fumbled and before either of you could react a harsh shatter ripped through the quiet, echoing through the empty kitchen. Natasha flinched hard like the sound itself cut her as the glass bottle smashed against the floor, sending shards flying everywhere.

“Fuck.” She hissed, her face shifting into an embarrassed, almost shameful expression.

“Don’t move or you’ll cut yourself. Let me go grab a brush.” You decided quickly, quickly jogging to the supply closet to grab something to clean up the mess with. When you returned back to the kitchen, Nat was somehow already cleaning up the mess with a small dustpan and brush, her balance looking wobbly as she balanced in a squat.

“What happened to staying put?” You sighed, coming to her side as she stood up to empty the shard-filled pan into the trash.

“It’s my mess to clean.” The redhead stated before taking a step back as she brought her elbow to her face to muffle a cough into. You caught her eyes as they glanced back to the counter and quickly swiped the remainder of drink before she could get to it.

“You’ve had enough.” Your voice held a stern tone. Nat opened her mouth but no words came out. You were sure she was about to argue but stopped, instead she turned away from you to cough again - an unpleasant sounding rattle. “If you still want something to drink then I’ll make you some tea instead. How does that sound?”

She gave you a look but there was the tiniest crack in her tough exterior as her gaze softened just the slightest bit, “I don’t really get a choice here, do I?”

“Not really. Sit down.” You instructed gently, pulling a stool up beside her. She did as told, sitting down dizzily which made the stool wobble uneasily for a second before steadying.

“You never answered my question.” You continued as you filled up the kettle and set it to boil, “What are you doing down here at this hour?”

She shifted in her seat a little, wrapping her arms around herself in a poor attempt at hiding a shiver - one which you pretended not to notice to give her at least the satisfaction of thinking she could hide it. “Same reason as you I suppose.” Natasha answered finally.

“That being?” You tried to lead her on but it was clear she wasn’t going to be the one to audibly admit anything so you took the step, “Couldn’t sleep? Didn’t wanna lay in your room by yourself?”

There was a small second of silence and she cleared her throat quietly, “Something like that.”Nat mumbled, evading eye contact as her words being chased by a damp cough.

The boiling kettle saved her from saying anything more and you poured out the hot liquid into two cups, adding a generous helping of honey to the redhead’s cup. “This’ll help.” You said simply, carefully placing her cup in the centre of the island, “Let it cool down for a few minutes first.”

For the first time that evening, her eyes met your own, “Thank you.”

A small smile formed on your lips and you slowly reached up, holding your hand just in front of her forehead, silently asking for permission before touching her. To your surprise, Nat leaned forwards, unconsciously gravitating towards your touch. To nobody’s surprise you were met with warm skin, heating radiating from her and you figured she definitely had a low-grade fever at minimum.

“You really didn’t take anything for this yet?” You asked again, hoping to get a straight answer this time. Nat shook her head and reached forwards to finally take the cup of tea into her hands, breathing in the steam for a minute before taking a long sip.

“Tastes sweet… honey?”

“Thought it would be best for your throat, you’re already starting to sound hoarse.”

Natasha shrugged, sniffling as the hot steam began to make her nose run a little, “Suppose it’s karma.” Your face shifted into a look of confusion and she continued, “For earlier. What we did to those-“

“Hey.” You cut her off with a stern voice, perhaps a little too loud for this time of night but you didn’t care, “You can’t blame yourself for that. There was nothing we could do, nothing anyone could do. What we did was mercy. I know it’s hard but we did the right thing.”

You could see the way her eyes were threatening to tear up, hell yours already were and you came to her side, pulling your arms around her in a comforting embrace, “It was the right thing to do Nat.” You repeated quietly and her body leaned into yours.

“I know.” She sniffled hard and you loosened your hold on her to grab the tissue box and handed her a couple. She blew her nose, the action making her cough roughly as it irritated her throat. Whether it was the tea taking an effect or simply all the alcohol catching up to her, Nat slumped sluggishly forward and couldn’t fight back a yawn.

Your hand came to rest on her back, slowly rubbing circles to keep her awake, “Come on, let’s get you to bed. You’re gonna feel even rougher in the morning when this hangover hits.”

Natasha shook her head but stood up nonetheless, wobbling uneasily as she did, murmuring “‘M Russian.” You reached forwards to steady her, unable to hold back a small laugh.

“And what’s that meant to mean?”

“Don’t get hangovers.”

You gave her a look. “You also said you didn’t get colds…” The harsh look she tried to give would’ve had its intended effect if only she could keep her eyes open properly. A tired, runny nosed Black Widow really wasn’t the greatest image for intimidation.

Luckily she complied in your efforts to get her to bed, the two of you managing to get to her room without any unnecessary falls. A few close calls and stumbles yes, but you still made it in one piece. Natasha took to her bed instantly, nestling down in the gray sheets. You took the chance to quickly gather some supplies, taking a glass of water and leaving it on her nightstand along with a packet of cough drops you’d swiped from her otherwise empty medicine cabinet.

“If you need me, just call me, okay? I’ll probably be awake for a while yet.” You murmured softly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her fevered forehead before turning to leave.

But something stopped you, a loose hand around your wrist. “Stay…?” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

You didn’t need to think twice. She patted the space beside her on the mattress and you slid on, sitting up when Nat let her head rest in your lap, “Do you need anything else?” You asked quietly, hand reaching over to flick off the small lamp on her desk.

She looked up, “Can we sleep with the lights on?”

“Whatever you need.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Taglist!

@truelysapphic @nayarianna1302 @scrambled-brain-eggs @itsarandomblog @loveshineslikethesky @danveration @swaqcenix @observeowl @lovelyy-moonlight @nuianced-tick-envy @asianmrchk13 @bgrace27 @lexasaurus634

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somber-sapphic · 7 months ago

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Undignified

〖Summary: Caitlyn wakes up in Vi's bed with a nasty fever.〗

〖Word Count: ~500〗

〖Pairing: Caitvi〗

〖Notes: Wow would you look at that, I wrote something! This is super short because I don't know the characters well yet. So sorry for any inaccuracies, I've only seen the show once. Please be nice, I haven't actually written anything in over half a year.〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Caitlyn woke with gasp, followed by a series of rough coughs that shook her to her core as she tried to claw her way out of the blanket tucked around her. She didn't fully recognize her surroundings, the room was dark and small, but cozy in a way. She certainly wasn’t in Piltover, the lack of glistening white marble and sounds of fighting outside were enough to tell her that. So she was in the Undercity, that could only mean one thing.

“Easy there cupcake.” Vi murmured, a calloused hand settling on her forehead. Caitlyn stilled, the sound of her voice instantly calming her. It didn’t matter where she was anymore, she knew that she would be safe with Vi. The pink haired woman would keep her out of any real danger. With the question of her safety settled, Caitlyn allowed herself to look inward to her aching limbs and foggy head.

“I’m ill?” She croaked, blinking up at the blurry figure of her girlfriend. No matter how hard she blinked she couldn’t manage to clear her vision, it was irritating. Being ill was irritating. She had so much to do, she had no time for this. Unfortunately frustration was not enough to stave off the fever that was keeping her practically nailed to the bed. She could barely keep her eyes open.

“That's an understatement. I found you half conscious in an alley, figured it’d be better to take you here. That way I can keep an eye on you.” Vi brushed a strand of navy blue hair behind Caitlyn’s ear, studying her face with careful scrutiny. The enforcers skin was paper white, the fever flush on her cheeks making her appear even more frail. Her eyes were sunken, filled with anguish.

The past few weeks had been tough on her, tougher than she’d ever truly let on. Vi knew to some extent, understood the wordless looks and touches that lasted longer than they needed to. There was never any doubt about the internal struggle Caitlyn had been waging, but also no conversation. There was no time for that conversation.

A barking cough tore itself from her lungs, the grating feeling scraping across her dry throat. She was too tired to lift a hand to cover her mouth, but she still tried to muffle the fit into the blanket. She was a woman of status after all, she needed to hold onto some decorum.

She felt a cool glass press against her lips, a hand propping her head up so that she could drink. She took large, grateful sips, the liquid soothing her throat.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, turning towards the hands that were holding her up. She wanted to be nearer to Vi, she felt alone without her touch. It was undignified, but there was no fight left in her. She needed comfort, the strong warrior had gone and replaced her with a weak, sick woman.

“Will you…lay with me? I’m cold…” Caitlyn murmured, emphasizing her point with a painful shiver. Her body couldn’t even do her the kindness of allowing her to be cold in peace, the body aches were enough to make her tear up. Vi grunted quietly and made her way under the blanket, wrapping the taller woman up in her arms. Caitlyn shifted so that she could place her head on Vi’s chest, taking comfort in her rhythmic breathing and steady heartbeat. She could allow herself this peace for a little while, just until her fever broke.

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#sickfic #sickfics #arcane #arcane sickfic #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #vi x caitlyn #caitvi sickfic #caitvi fanfic #violet arcane #vi arcane #sick fanfic #sick character #fever #sick caitlyn

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somber-sapphic · 8 months ago

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#seems like the only choice #i'm wrapped in a blanket #it has elephants on it

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somber-sapphic · 8 months ago

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#what are you doing here 🤨

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somber-sapphic · 9 months ago

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Prompt list time!

Here it is guys! The 2025 Feveruary prompts! We wanted them to be more generally comfort focused so then they be able to be interpreted in different ways to allow you guys to be as creative as you’d like!

We’re so excited to share these with you and we can’t wait to see what you write! As always feel free to ask any questions or share your excitement about this event! :D

We'll post more about how to submit your work and the AO3 collection closer to the time! For now though, we wish you goodluck and happy writing!

Text Version Below:

“How did you end up like this?”

Burning Up then Freezing Cold

Caught in the Rain

Herbal Remedy

“Could you just hold me?”

Spoon-Feeding

“I’m still not used to being taken care of.”

“Couldn’t you keep your cold to yourself.”

Face Masks

“You’re safe, it was just a dream.”

“You’re burning up!”

Role Reversal – Medic to Sickie

“I wouldn’t even trust you to boil tea in your condition!”

Falling asleep in the wrong place

Guiding sickie back to bed

“Is it me or is it really warm in here?”

“I know you want to help but you’re only making things worse.”

Delirious

“I know ice cream is good for sore throats but that’s way too much!”

Lost Voice/Strep Throat

From better to worse

“Our date can wait! You’re far more important.”

“You need a tissue?”

“Don’t you think you should stay home today?”

Standing Vigil

“You sure I’m sick? Because I feel fine.”

Vacation Disaster

“Well, it sounds to me like you need a little bit of TLC.”

Alternates:

Forced to work

Cool wash cloth

"I don't get sick!"

Sneezing Fit

#feveruary #feveruary 2025 #sickfic #prompts #prompt list #writing prompts #sickfic prompts #writing event

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somber-sapphic · 10 months ago

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Get ready!!

4 More Days!!

Get ready, prompts drop in just 4 days!

#feveruary #feveruary 2025 #sickfic prompts #sickfic event

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somber-sapphic · 10 months ago

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reposting for nobody in particular with no tags because i hate this one

Arizona had warned her. She had warned her ten hours ago, saying that she should take the day off of work because she’d be sick. Callie wasn’t typically one to ignore her wife’s typically valid points, but she scoffed at the idea that the perky blonde could predict when someone would be sick with no evidence at all.

As a medical professional, she needed evidence for just about any decision in her life. There came a certain comfort when one worked in a field driven by science, a level of surety that was never swayed by opinion. No matter what someone believed there was a correct answer. There may have been multiple, but there was always an answer if you were willing to find it.

Imagine the orthopedic surgeon's annoyance when she woke up for her next shift with a pounding headache and stuffy nose. She groaned inwardly and rolled over in bed, surprised to find it empty. Her wife was nowhere to be seen. Shit.

The brunette checked the time and her ‘shit’ feeling grew more intense. She was late. She was so very late.

Ignoring the protests of her overly exhausted body the surgeon pulled herself out of bed and raced to the bathroom, pulling on the first clothes that she managed to yank from the dresser. She managed to brush her teeth while doing her hair, a feat that she was mildly impressed by. She was capable of doing anything if she was late.

Callie ran into the kitchen, grabbing her bags as she headed for the door, pulling up short when she saw a note on the counter.

Calliope-

Don’t you dare come to work today. Bailey knows you’re sick and is under orders to alert me if you are seen entering the hospital. There’s chicken soup in the fridge, heat it for lunch. I’ll call you in a few hours to check-in.

Love you,

Arizona

The note gave the ill doctor pause. What if she did say home? What if she followed her wife’s orders and went back to bed? She knew from experience that Arizona made amazing chicken noodle soup, it was practically the only thing that she could cook. She also knew that there was a good chance that the blonde would come home to her if she asked.

Callie pushed the thought away as quickly as it had appeared, she probably wouldn’t be allowed to see patients but she could at least fill out paperwork. Like most of her coworkers, she was awful about finishing her paperwork on time, there was just so much going on that she didn’t always have time.

—

Amelia was startled from her intense study of the brain scan by a hacking cough that reverberated off of the walls and made her chest hurt in sympathy. She poked her head through the doorway and curled her lip at the sight of Callie stumbling down the hallway.

“Torres!” She called, pulling the brunette’s attention away from whatever her original task was. Based on the glazed look in the Ortho Goddesses eyes and the emptiness in her expression Amelia wasn’t even sure that she had a task.

“Damn, you’ve kept that cough through two colds and it sounds like you’re on your third.” The neurosurgeon murmured, pressing the back of her hand against Callie’s hot forehead. She grimaced and the other doctor took a few quick steps away, looking dazed. She turned away and began to cough into her arm, doing her best to shield the woman in front of her from the germs.

Amelia reared back, covering her mouth with a hand.

“No, nope. I have to be in a kid's brain in two hours, you are not giving me whatever that is. Go home Callie, you’re gross.” She wrinkled her nose and gave Callie a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before running off to rub hand sanitizer on any part of her body that might have been exposed to whatever her friend was currently infected with.

The ill woman sniffled tiredly and trudged down the hall, not going anywhere in particular. With her brain on autopilot, Callie found herself wandering onto the pediatric unit, right to where Arizona was signing reports outside of a young patient's room.

“I want a clotting test done on her and make sure to continue monitoring her vitals, page me if they drop any lower.” The blonde doctor ordered, smiling warmly at a nurse. The man nodded and went to get the things needed for the clotting test.

Callie realized her mistake at the last second and tried to veer off course, but it was too late, she had been seen. The pediatric surgeon glared at her sick girlfriend and shook her head, resisting the urge to start yelling in the middle of the hallway.

While the woman always loved her heelies, she was particularly grateful for them in that moment, it made it much easier to catch up with her fleeing lover.

“Calliope! What the hell are you doing here?” She hissed, grabbing the brunette's shoulder and spinning her around. Callie looked at her with wide eyes, seeming at a loss for words. She was never at a loss for words, she always had something to say.

Arizona felt her heart drop at the look on the woman’s face, she just looked exhausted and confused.

“Callie. Baby. Why are you here?” She asked, her voice softening as she let go of the frustration. Her girlfriend had a fever, she wasn’t fully aware of what was happening.

“I um…I didn’t want to be alone.” Callie said sheepishly, refusing to meet Arizona’s eyes. She was incredibly embarrassed by the admission, she wasn’t one to express any kind of weakness, and this, this was weakness. This was just about as bad as it could get. She was vulnerable, she wanted her girlfriend.

“Oh, Calliope. Okay,” The blonde sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to figure out what she should do. She could stick the other woman in a room until her shift was over, that might be the best course of action. Or she could just take her home to make sure that she rested and it was probably best to remove her from the hospital entirely so that she didn't sneak off to work.

“Ellen,” She said, turning back to one of the nurses. “I’m going to take Dr. Torres home, I want you to page Dr. Montgomery-Shepard if anything happens. She will decide if I am needed.” The nurse nodded her understanding and gave Callie a sympathetic smile. The doctor wrinkled her nose in distaste, unhappy that she was getting so much attention. She just wanted her girlfriend.

“C’mon Callie. Let’s go.” Arizona whispered, looping her arm through the other woman’s. Callie coughed into her shoulder and the ped’s surgeon hummed her disapproval and rubbed her back to calm the fit.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” Callie replied, rasped rather, her eyes dull and clouded with fever. She had started to shiver a bit, inching closer to the woman by her side. Arizona held her a bit tighter as they walked out of the building, throwing a wave at a slightly annoyed-looking Bailey on the way out.

One look at the orthopedic surgeon and the woman’s expression turned from frustrated confusion to a mix of disgust and concern. She waved back with a slight eye-roll, leaving the two to go home.

Callie fell asleep as soon as Arizona started the car, her cold taking everything out of her. The blonde smiled over at her girlfriend, her heart swelling at just how beautiful she was. The wrinkles on her forehead were gone, leaving a soft content expression on her face.

Her lips were parted and her nose was red, but that didn’t take away from her overall beauty. It added a sort of vulnerability to the woman’s stoic demeanor. That was when Arizona realized: she was in love with Calliope Torres.

She drove in silence, contemplating the revelation that she’d just had, glancing over at the sick brunette every few seconds just to reassure herself that the woman was still breathing. The quiet was only broken by the sounds of Callies soft snores and sniffles.

When they arrived home Arizona was almost hesitant to wake the brunette, she was sleeping more peacefully than she had in weeks. But her cheeks were flushed and her nose had begun to run across her lip, they needed to go inside.

She climbed out of the car and shut the door quietly, hoping to give her just a few more seconds of rest. The blonde opened Callie’s door and touched her shoulder, squeezing it gently to wake her up.

“Hey Callie, it's time to wake up.” She murmured, reaching up to tuck a lock of thick dark hair behind her lover's ear. The brunette started, sitting up quickly with wide confused eyes. She stared at Arizona, almost looking right through her.

“Hey baby, it’s okay.” Callie frowned, looking around, disoriented as she tried to take in her surroundings. She was pretty sure she’d fallen asleep at the hospital, but…this wasn’t the hospital.

“We’re at home, remember?” The blonde could read her mind and any other day it would be cute, but for now it was creepy. It was making her nervous, she didn’t fully understand what was happening and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep, hopefully in her girlfriend’s arms.

“We’re at home?” She asked, blinking tiredly up at her fellow surgeon.

“Mhm, we’re home. Come on, let's get you inside.” Arizona wrapped an arm around Callie’s waist and helped her walk inside, being incredibly careful not to let her trip up the steps. It was a slow, painstaking process, but soon enough she had the brunette in the bedroom, standing near the bed.

“I gotta change.”

“Woah, woah, sit down your complexion’s scaring me. I’ll help you change, okay? Let's take your temp first.” The pediatric surgeon whipped out a thermometer and dragged it across Callie’s forehead, simultaneously forcing the brunette to sit down. She held the woman’s chin in hand as she stared at the device in her hand.

“Okay, 101.6, that’s not as bad as I thought. Here, I want you to change into these while I get some NyQuil, which you will be taking. Understood?” Arizona had gone full-on doctor mode, not leaving anything up to fate. She would be taking everything into her own hands to make sure that her girlfriend got better instead of worse.

Callie sighed and nodded, slightly relieved to have her girlfriend with her. She wasn’t alone, she didn’t have to deal with it on her own, and she had someone to take care of her. The brunette watched as Arizona left the room and began the painstaking process of undressing, her muscles aching in protest with her every move.

She had managed to pull on the sweatpants and get the shirt half off when the other woman returned, a bottle of Nyquil in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. She set her things down on the bedside table and chuckled at he lover's predicament, rolling her eyes slightly.

“Need some help?” She chuckled, moving to pull the shirt off the rest of the way and replace it with the soft cotton one. With the woman changed and sitting in bed, she was now pouting up at her blonde lover.

“I don’t feel good.” The brunette complained, sniffling pathetically. Her cheeks were flushed which was a huge contrast to the pallor of the rest of her skin. As soon as the ‘I’m the toughest person in the room grrr’ attitude wore off, Callie turned into a big baby when she was sick. It was sort of endearing.

“I know Callie. Take this and drink half of that OJ and then you can get some sleep.” Arizona ordered, handing over the small ‘shot glass’ of medicine. The ill woman grimaced and glanced up with a ‘do I have to?’ look on her face that she hoped would work. She forgot that her girlfriend got that look all of the time.

“Nice try, take it.” With a long-suffering sigh, Callie did what she was told, being sure to exaggerate her disgusted expression the whole time.

“You’re mean.” She grumbled, reaching for the orange juice to chase the awful taste of the medicine.

“Yeah, but I’m cute.” Arizona grinned back at her and began to change, pulling her hair out of its ponytail as she climbed back into comfy clothes, fully intending to join her girlfriend.

Callie drank about a quarter of the OJ before she couldn’t do it anymore, her throat protesting against the acidity of the drink. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to make Arizona happy, but she just couldn’t drink anymore.

“Alright, I guess that’ll do. Now, you are going to take a nap and I am going to do some work. Sound good?” The blonde wasn’t really looking for an agreement, it was happening whether or not Callie wanted, but thankfully she did.

She curled into the woman’s side as she pulled the blankets over the two of them, opening her laptop as she settled under the covers. The slightly younger surgeon put one hand on the top of Callie’s head, stroking her hair as she typed with one hand, the clack of the keys lulling the sick woman into a sleepy daze.

“‘Zona?” She mumbled, already slurring as she began to fall asleep. Arizona hummed in response, not looking up from her screen. She had files to finish and this was the perfect excuse to catch up on some of the pointless work that she’d been putting off.

“Love you ‘Zona.” She stopped in her work and looked down at the woman by her side, a smile spreading across her lips. Callie was chuckling quietly, her body shaking with quiet laughter.

“I love you too. Now shush, I need to work.” And that was that. Calliope Torres lay with Arizona Robbins, one sleeping fitfully while the other worked. It wasn’t the most glamorous sick day, and it wasn’t the most comfortable, but at least she wasn’t alone. Both would later agree that leaving Callie to roam while she had a fever was definitely not the best idea.

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