#i know u said cold but i went w a cough bc the mental image was easier w that

[sophaeros]

Miles is sick with a cold and Alex tries to play nurse but isn't great at it!

hi anon it took me great amounts of self control not to make this nsfw.

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“I made you chicken soup,” Alex says.

“Oh no,” Miles groans. The sound is muffled by the painful gravel of his voice and the fever flush of his squinted eyes, a stray droplet of water trickling down his temple from the soaked hand towel lying lopsided on his forehead.

“Twat,” Alex says lightly, nudging pill bottles and  discarded tissues aside to set the oversized bowl onto the bedside table. The easy insult is ruined a little by the clear worry in his voice and the anxiety as he’s caught momentarily on the mess on the table, having been too busy running from one self-imposed task to another to clean. He gives himself a sharp shake of his head, stirring the cloudy soup with a spoon. “I used one of them canned soups, alright, followed the instructions and everything.”

Miles struggles his way into sitting up, Alex almost flinging soup onto the blankets in his haste to prop the pillows up. The towel flops onto his lap.

He peers doubtfully at the soup. “Is it supposed-” he breaks off into a wheezing cough. “Is it supposed to look like that?” he manages.

“Stop trying to talk while coughing,” Alex says, distressed, pressing a lukewarm cup of water into his hands.

Miles takes a long sip of the water, getting his breathing under control.

“Like what?” Alex asks, frowning down at the bowl. Chunks of greyish-white chicken float lazily through the stirred soup alongside mushy, irregular wedges of carrots and potatoes.

Miles waves a hand vaguely. “White.”

“It’s not white.”

“It is.”

“It’s not, the can said clear soup.”

“Well it’s not clear right now, innit?”

Alex takes a sip from the spoon and completely fails to control the spasm of disgust that flicks across his face.

“Babe,” Miles says, pained.

Alex sighs, dropping the spoon back into the bowl and crawling into the bed beside Miles, throwing his arm across Miles’ tummy out of habit before catching himself and tucking it against his own chest instead. “I wanted to make you feel better,” he says despondently.

“You do, love, you’re doing great,” Miles says gently, and promptly breaks off into another round of thick coughing, water sloshing over the rim of his glass.

“Liar,” Alex mutters, taking the glass from his hand.

“You’re gonna get sick staying here with me,” Miles says, but he buries his hands in Alex’s hair anyway, Alex listening to the tension bleed out of his body.

“Shut up,” Alex says. Miles, for once, obliges.