#i was cold and achy and needed to Not Do Things so i played vampire survivors instead

[mydetheturk]

while it is still sunday, instead of six sentences, have a couple of scrapped paragraphs from a fic that might tentatively go up tomorrow

~~

The waitress brings Vash his coffee and says something about family.

Domina looks at her and smiles, and she knows how unsettling she must look with her too-pale eyes and thin smile when she says, “Oh, this is my brother in law.”

Stampede’s eyes go wide in shock and Knives goes speechless with how hard he’s laughing up against Domina’s spinal column. The waitress congratulates them – for what, Domina’s not a hundred percent sure, but it was fine.

“What the hell was that?” Vash hisses as soon as she’s out of earshot.

Domina’s smile drops. “Oh please. What your brother and I did is far more intimate than human marriage.”

[myfictionaldreams]

~ stranger things masterlist 📚 ~

Hello lovely, I hope you’re having a great day. Welcome to my stranger things masterlist! I love to write in my spare time and the fiction that I create is for 18+ readers ONLY please. Also, read the tags carefully before continuing.

Masterlists ♥ A03 ♥ Tags  ♥ Question? (requests closed)  ♥ latest works ♥

steddie (steve/eddie/reader) 🤘😎

please rest!  (fluff, smut)

You always wake up from date night feeling achy and exhausted and sometimes, you don't always prioritise your rest when you need it most. However, it seems great minds think alike where Steve and Eddie are concerned.

give me a d!  (fluff, smut)

Steve finds your old cheerleader outfit and is desperate for you to try it on and surprise Eddie.

heartbeat - kinktober - vampire!steddie (smut, fluff, dark-ish)

The upside down had changed Steve and Eddie forever but, at least their obsession for you hadn't changed. However, instead of your sweet smiles that they craved to see everyday, it was listening to the thumping of your heartbeat.

deepthroat/facesitting - kinktober (smut)

It's Eddie's birthday and all he wants for breakfast is you.

eddie munson 🤘

angel ~ (fluff, smut)

You have had this surprise planned for weeks now. Tonight, you were going to dress up as an angel for Eddie but, what you hadn’t anticipated was the fact that Eddie would be coming home with the rest of the Hellfire’s club, incluing your little brother Dustin.

dungeon Master meets his Mistress  (fluff)

Hellfire is short a member, so Dusting and the boys bed their old babysitter who taught them DnD to come play and because they know Eddie has a crush on he and wants to introduce them.

hair pulling (kinktober) (smut)

You weren’t even thinking when you pulled his hair to get his attention, didn’t notice the dark look in his eyes as he promised to make you pay later

dacryphilia - kinktober  (smut)

Eddie always loved teasing you but what happens when it goes too far?

face sitting - kinktober  (smut)

It was your six month anniversary and Eddie wanted only one thing, for you to sit on his face

cold rings (smut, fluff)

Eddie was known for being a bad influence and you were more than happy to go along for the ride.

pretty eyes  (fluff, smut)

Eddie was your best friend but you were undoubtedly in love with him. During one of Steve's house parties, you find yourself in bed with him which wasn't unusual, you were only hugging after all... until your lips are brushing against his.

don’t distract me  (smut)

Eddie had promised he would meet you after DnD to study for the upcoming exams but when he leaves you waiting in the rain, what will he do to make it up to you?

you're mine, sweetheart (smut)

Eddie Munson loved many things but above all else, he loved teasing you, especially when it was so easy to do. All day he had been whispering into your ear and giving lingering touches and now, you were ready for him to do whatever he wanted to you.

sweat - kinktober (smut)

Eddie was a pretty boy, and even prettier when he was sweating in his after-sex glow

religion play/priest kink - kinktober (smut, dark)

You were unsure as to what you'd done to offend the new priest. What's worse is that your mom had invited him over for dinner where you find him going through your bedside draw, revealing all of your well-kept secrets.

steve harrington 😎

roleplay - kinktober (smut, darkish)

it had been your idea to dress up for Halloween as characters from Scream but what happens when you forget it's Steve under the mask

[marvelous-writer]

Monster Mash

Summary: The Stark family gets invited to a Halloween party at the Compound, only Peter fails to mention that he’s sick.

Happy Halloween, everyone!!! 🎃🕷🕸🕷🕸🎃

Link to read on Ao3:

The plan had originally been that Tony, Pepper, Morgan, and Peter would all dress up as a family of vampires for the Halloween party the team was throwing at the Compound.

That said plan was going right down the toilet now because somehow, Peter got sick.

“Pete you ready? We have to leave in five minutes!” Tony calls from downstairs.

“Yeah…” Peter groans into his pillow, hair damp from the shower he’d gotten out of minutes before, only to have a dizzy spell when he bent down to grab something, resulting in him lying down until it was over.

Only getting up feels like a lot of work right now.

Why does this always have to happen to him? He’s been looking forward to dressing up and going to the party tonight, especially since Halloween was one of his favorite holidays outside of Thanksgiving and Christmas. One thing’s for sure, he definitely wasn’t telling or letting anyone know that he’s not feeling well because that would mean missing out on the party, and Morgan’s been so excited about going since Tony told them about it. Peter definitely wasn’t letting her down, not over a silly little cold.

No. He wasn’t going to give in to this. It was just kind over matter.

At least that’s what he’s been trying to tell himself all day, since waking up horribly achy and groggy.

“Gotta get up…” Peter murmurs to himself, sucking in a grounding breath before he slowly pushes himself up.

Thankfully his vision doesn’t blur like it had earlier, so that was a win. Peter rubs at his face tiredly, hands dropping in his lap as he looks over at his closet, eyes landing on the black tuxedo he was supposed to wear tonight. It was the same one Tony had bought him for that Stark Industries gala a while back.

The last thing Peter wants to do right now with how he’s feeling, is wear that horribly uncomfortable thing for heck knows how many hours tonight. Too bad there wasn’t something else he could wear, something more comfortable and Halloweeny.

An idea suddenly pops into his head.

…….

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Tony dryly says, an unimpressed look on his face, decked out in his black tuxedo, his hair slicked back with hair gel.

Peter shrugs, dressed head to toe in his Spider-Man suit, wearing the cape over it that he was supposed to wear over his tux. “What? I’m… uh… Vamp-Spidey? Spider-Vamp? Spire?” Peter weakly says in his defense, holding his arms out.

Morgan giggles at Pepper’s side, who are both decked out in their costumes, a form-fitting shiny black dress on Pepper, and a cute black dress with a flowy black skirt with orange and silver sparkles.

“Do you have any concept of a secret identity?” Tony asks.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, right? The team already knows who I am and it’s Halloween. I can just keep my mask on all night if it bothers you so much.” Peter lightly says.

Tony closes his eyes and punches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head with a sigh. “You know-fine. You look great, kid. Let’s just get in the car. We’re already ten minutes late.”

“Not late enough for your taste though?” Pepper asks, looking like the perfect bride for a Vampire.

A smile tugs at Tony’s mouth at her teasing. “Ha ha. Come on.” He says as he opens the front door.

…….

By the time they arrive at the Compound, it’s five-forty in the evening and the driveway is a literal parking lot. In the half hour drive over, Peter ended up taking an impromptu nap, which did nothing to help the exhaustion that’s heavily weighing him down and the car ride didn’t do anything to help his stomach.

When they arrive on the Avenges’ floor, the lights are dim, party lights flashing and glowing around the room, the speakers turned up playing The Monster Mash. There are a couple of people dancing in the cleared out living room but people seem to be mostly standing around mingling, snacks and punch in hand.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show up.” A voice comes over the music.

Peter looks over and does a double take when he sees Clint, who’s dressed as Black Widow in a black skintight bodysuit, red wig and all.

Tony snickers at the sight of the man. “Wow… looking good, Barton. Who’s idea was this?”

“Eh, I lost a bet to Sam. Loser had to dress as Nat.” The archer shrugs. “But hey! You guys look amazing as a family of Vampires and-” His eyes fall on Peter, brows pulling together in confusion. “And Spider-Man?”

“He felt like being creative tonight.” Tony explains, an amused grin on his lips.

Clint hummus, brows raising as he nods. “It’s certainly different, but hey, what the hell, right? It’s Halloween!” He smiles, holding his arms out. “You guys go on and have some fun!”

Pepper smiles, “We’ll do that. You too.”

Peter follows behind them further in the room but Clint claps his hands around his shoulders, stopping him.

“I’d just avoid the blue punch. I think Nat spiked it.” Clint whispers.

Peter raises an eyebrow under his mask. “Why? With what?”

“Don’t know, some fun juice if you know what I mean. Sam’s a wee bit off his rocker and I’m feeling a bit buzzed.” Clint grins. “You and your sister stick to the red punch bowl, got it?” He says, gently patting his shoulders.

“Got it.” Peter says as he watches him stalk off towards the kitchen.

Peter walks around a little bit, taking in all of the costumes and the shockingly lifelike decorations that were littered around the place. There are a bunch of skeletons and webs hanging on the walls, as well as fake blood spatters.

Peter’s stomach churns at the sight of it all, so he has to tear his eyes away and focus on looking for Morgan. Despite disappointing everyone with his costume choice, he’s immensely grateful that he’s wearing his suit with how loud everything is, his mask already dialing down the brightness and sound levels.

He finds Morgan by the snack table with Pepper, where Happy and May are, laughing a something. They’re both dressed as 70’s hippies, definitely May’s doing, but Happy looks pretty, well… happy. The both of them do.

Peter watches Morgan licking the frosting off of a cupcake that resembles an eyeball, cringing when he sees her frosted covered tongue licking at the top.

“Hey, there he is!” May smiles when she sees him, smiling brightly, her light pink glasses shining in the lighting. “Spider-Vamp.”

Clearly she already bumped into Tony.

“Or-what was it? Spire?” Happy throws in with an amused grin.

“Oh, haha.” Peter rolls his eyes, as May hugs him since she hasn’t seen him in a few days since he’s been staying over at the lake house for the weekend.

They all talk for a few minutes, before Morgan pulls Peter away into the kitchen so she could get a drink. Peter avoids the bowl of blue punch and goes for the red, poring Morgan and himself a cup. He rolls up his mask to his nose and takes a small sip, cringing from the sweetness of it. Morgan doesn’t seem to mind it as she happily drinks it, while Peter cautiously sips at the overly sugary beverage.

They go back out and stand with Pepper, who was now talking with Natasha, who was wearing a Hawkeye costume, her red hair tied up in a tight ponytail. There must’ve been a story behind that costume choice.

“Oooh, Petey look! Games!” Morgan excitedly squeals, tugging on his arm as she points at the other side of the room, where multiple Halloween themed games are spread out, like pin the arm on the skeleton.

He raises an eyebrow at that, wondering who was behind that one. Clint probably, maybe even Sam.

“Well let’s go see them.” Peter tells her, earning an excited squeal from her.

……

An hour pass by, and at this point, Peter’s regretting not telling Tony and Pepper he wasn’t feeling good so they would’ve stayed home.

The filtering in his mask isn’t helping Peter out that much with all of the noise and bright lights around him, and he’s developed quite the headache over the past thirty or so minutes. But then again, his senses are always extra sensitive whenever he’s sick. Which he certainly wasn’t.

Mind over matter. Peter tells himself, brows pulling together when his stomach strongly disagrees with the one cup of punch and a few snacks he’s had tonight.

He can feel the sweat building up on his back and on his forehead, regretting wearing his suit. He could have just dressed up as a ghost with a simple white sheet over him and wear whatever he wanted underneath it.

Peter is standing beside Morgan, who’s been playing the skeleton game for the past ten minutes. There are a lot of kid games here but Morgan seems to be the only kid here.

At least she’s having fun at this thing though.

Peter closes his eyes, wishing that there were chairs or something around so he could sit. He’s starting to feel a pinch but lightheaded all of a sudden, which probably wasn’t a good sign. Maybe he just needed some water.

Peter opens his eyes again and his eyes roam over the costumed partiers until his eyes land on Tony.

“Hey, M? How about we go see what Daddy’s up to?” Peter loudly says to her, bending down to her level so she could hear him over the base of the speakers.

“Okay.” She nods, seeming alright with abandoning the games.

Peter takes her hand and the two of them make their way through the sea of people, taking a few moments until they reach Tony. All of the movement is making Peter dizzy.

“Ah-there you two are!” Tony smiles when he sees them. “Having fun?”

“Yeah… lots.” Peter says, with no real excitement behind it. “Uh, I’m just going to grab something to drink.”

“Okay.” Tony nods as he smiles at Morgan and picks her up. “And how are you my little Vampire Princess?”

Peter can’t hear her answer over the loud music and voices as he turns away and walks over to the kitchen, maneuvering around the crowd.

The kitchen is thankfully empty when he walks in, and he breathes out a shaky, relieved breath as he pulls his mask off. He winces from the onslaught of bright lights and sounds, a dull throbbing behind his eyes as his headache ramps up a few notches.

Peter makes a beeline to the refrigerator but he pauses when something catches his eye. He looks down at the countertop of the center island next to the sink, fear shooting through him at the sight he’s met with.

A cutting board is out, with a severed hand right on top next to a butcher knife. There’s blood everywhere, all over the board, the countertop and all over the sink. The hand looks so realistic that there’s a piece of bone and mangled flesh peeking out from it.

Peter’s stomach violently twists, as saliva rapidly fills his mouth. His eyes widen fearfully as his eyes dart around himself for something to throw up into, knowing that there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable from happening.

He moves for the sink but pauses, noting how absolutely disgusted that would be for a guest to find him upchucking in a sink, plus he never wants to lay eyes on that hand ever again in his life.

Peter’s eyes land on a trash can by the refrigerator and he practically dives for it, making it just in time before he’s heaving into it, throwing up what little food he’s eaten all day.

He doesn’t even hear the footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

“Peter?” He recognizes Happy’s voice. “What the hell-are you alright?”

Peter tries to answer him but opening his mouth but he gags, finding himself bent over the barrel again, painfully retching.

“I’m… I’m going to get Tony or May. I’ll be right back. You just… stay there.” Happy panically, sounding like he had no idea what to do.

Peter only groans in response.

Not even thirty seconds later, Tony rushes into the kitchen.

“Oh, Pete…” He sympathetically says as he walks over to him, placing a hand on Peter’s back, rubbing small, soothing circles.

“S’ the hand’s falt…” Peter moans into the barrel.

“What hand?” Tony asks, confused, probably looking around the kitchen for it. “Oh… that hand. Yikes. Yeah, that’d do it for me too. I’m going to have a serious talk with whoever did that, and my money’s on Clint.”

Peter remains silent, focusing on keeping his stomach as still as possible. He feels like absolute garbage, no pun intended. His head is pounding now, a dull pulsating behind his eyes and he feels horribly woozy, but thankfully less nauseous now.

Tony’s hand pauses on his back. “Was it just the hand that got you sick? You’ve been acting off all day.”

Peter caves and shakes his head. “No... been feeling sick all day.” He confesses.

Tony breathes out a sigh through his nose. “Kid, this is why you have to tell me these things. I knew something was up with the whole costume switch.”

“M’ sorry.” Peter softly says into the trash barrel.

Tony continues rubbing his back. “It’s alright but please let me know from now on when you’re not feeling good. Okay? Please? You know I have a heart condition.”

Peter silently nods in agreement.

“Think you’re done?” Tony asks after a few minutes of them standing there in the middle of the kitchen.

“Think so…” Peter says as he slowly stands up.

He leans against the counter, avoiding looking towards the sink, watching Tony seal up the garbage bag and take it out from the barrel. He turns around and looks at Peter, concern etched on his features.

“How about we head on home? Get you into bed?” Tony suggests.

Guilt floods through Peter at that. “No, you guys should have fun-”

“Pete, I can’t have any fun when I know you’re feeling this miserable. Besides, we’ll just make up for it at Thanksgiving.” Tony says with a small smile, gently placing a hand on his back, steering him out of the kitchen. “Let’s go find Morgan and Pepper.”

As soon as he says it, Pepper appears right in front of them with Morgan in her arms, looking concerned as her eyes land on Peter. “Oh, Peter, sweetie. Happy said you weren’t feeling well? I was just coming to check on you.”

“Yeah, he’s not feeling so hot so we were going to find you two and see if you wanted to head on home?” Tony says.

She nods. “Yeah that’s probably a good idea.”

Peter leans into Tony tiredly as they head towards the elevator, the bass painfully beating against his ear drums, beating along with his pounding head.

“Wait.” Peter stops suddenly when they’re at the elevator. “I gotta tell May we’re leaving.”

“Uh, yeah… don’t worry about that, kiddo. She’s a wee bit out of it right now.” Tony says, leading him inside the elevator.

“Oh… she must’ve had the blue punch Clint told me about…” Peter mumbles.

“Yeah and a little too much of it, I’m afraid. Happy told me they were leaving anyways when he found you.” Tony says, pressing the bottom floor button.

…….

Along their drive back home, Peter falls asleep in the back of the car, his head pillowed with his and Tony’s cape, the radio playing a soft classic rock in the background.

He wakes up sometime later, when they’re halfway up the stairs, finding himself in Tony’s arms.

“Are we home?” Peter sleepily murmurs, head resting against the man’s shoulder.

“Yeah, bud.” Tony softly says as he walks across the hallway to Peter’s room.

Peter hums, letting his heavy eyes slip closed once again.

[theajaheira]

sick day

read it on ao3!

Jenny figured that talking Willow down from her “Oh My God How Much Work Did I Miss” panic would be the hardest part of flu season, but when Rupert started coughing uncontrollably in the middle of a faculty meeting, she realized with an unpleasant jolt that she had an extremely difficult challenge ahead of her.

Namely, getting her workaholic of a boyfriend to take care of himself.

for @worn-whorehouse-stairs, who asked for sleep-deprived/loopy giles. this isn’t Exactly All About That, but i hope it is still something nice to read!!! i love u bunches and you deserve all the nice things <33

set somewhere in the interim between ted and surprise.

Flu season was sweeping through Sunnydale with such intensity that Jenny was seriously considering devoting some research time to looking up demonic viruses. Even Willow, who had had perfect attendance throughout the entire first semester, had had to miss a few days of school to get better. Jenny figured that talking Willow down from her “Oh My God How Much Work Did I Miss” panic would be the hardest part of flu season, but when Rupert started coughing uncontrollably in the middle of a faculty meeting, she realized with an unpleasant jolt that she had an extremely difficult challenge ahead of her.

Namely, getting her workaholic of a boyfriend to take care of himself.

“Really, Jenny, don’t fuss,” Rupert was saying irritably as they left the meeting. “I’m sure it’s only a light cough—”

“Xander threw up in class last week,” said Jenny stubbornly, “and he was saying that it was just a cough too. The only reason Buffy hasn’t caught whatever’s going around is because she is a Vampire Slayer—” she determinedly ignored the bemused look thrown in her direction by a passing group of students, “—and you are not that, so you need to take the day off before your cough gets worse.”

“I am not a teenager,” said Rupert. “I have a full-fledged immune system, and Sunnydale depends on my being present to—”

“Exactly!” Jenny persisted. “You need to be present! And you’re not doing anyone any favors if you get struck down with the flu!”

“Well, then, I’d best make use of the time that I can work, hadn’t I?” countered Rupert, grinning triumphantly as though he thought he was making some kind of a valid point.

“You’re completely missing what I’m trying to say,” said Jenny, crossing her arms and fixing him with the Look she gave students who tried to talk their way out of doing homework. It didn’t have the desired effect on Rupert, who gave her a Look right back. “You’re important, Rupert, to—” She stopped, blushing. Maybe it was too soon to go there. “To a lot of people,” she said awkwardly. “Probably.”

Rupert bit his lip, giving her a little sideways grin. God, Jenny missed the days when he didn’t know her well enough to pick up on what she was really saying. “Well,” he said. “Those people have no need to worry, because I can take care of myself just fine,” and he leaned in to kiss her.

“Ugh,” said Jenny, stopping him before he could. “No. Sick person germs.”

“Jenny, really, it was just a cough—”

“Taking no chances!” Jenny stepped back, giving him a thumbs-up. “Take care of yourself! Get better!”

Rupert rolled his eyes, but he was smiling a little as she turned to head to class.

And then, of course, Buffy called Jenny with that thread of panicked irritation in her voice that only ever came up when Rupert was being an idiot. Jenny, who had seen this coming a mile away, resignedly put down the papers she was grading and drove down to Sunnydale High, stopping only to pick up some ibuprofen for said idiot and some chocolate for Buffy.

Buffy appreciated the chocolate. “I deserve, like, so much candy for putting up with this,” she informed Jenny, taking a large bite of the Hershey’s bar. “He probably would have stayed passed out here all night if I hadn’t stopped by to check in, and where would we be then?”

“I am fine,” said Rupert, “if you would all stop fussing—”

“Facedown in the middle of a book is not fine, sweetie,” said Jenny, crossing the room to gently touch his cheek. “And I’m no expert, but it looks like you’re running a fever. You’re coming home with me.”

“Are you propositioning me in front of my Slayer, Ms. Calendar?” quipped Rupert, then sneezed.

“Yes,” said Jenny dryly, patting his shoulder. “That is definitely what I’m doing right now.” To Buffy, she added, “You kids can hold down the fort while I keep an eye on him, right?”

“Pretty much,” said Buffy, shrugging. “We’ll beep you if there’s an issue.” Her face softened slightly as she looked at both of them. “Thanks for doing this,” she said. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one he’d listen to.”

“Hardly,” said Jenny, amused. “I told him two days ago that he should take it easy.”

“If you would all stop talking about me as though I’m dead,” Rupert interjected, tried to stand up, and swayed alarmingly.

Buffy moved forward, steadying him. “I can still help you guys get home?” she offered. “I’m not going to be getting sick any time soon—thank you, Slayer mojo,” she grinned, ponytail swishing, “and I’m pretty sure trying to hold Giles up might totally crush you. You’re super tiny.”

“Pot, kettle,” Jenny pointed out, but gave Buffy a grateful smile in return.

“Now hold on,” said Rupert, still leaning heavily on Buffy. “I have not in any way agreed to this.”

“Aww, isn’t he sweet?” Buffy patted Rupert’s arm. “He thinks he has a choice!”

“So cute,” Jenny agreed, leaning in to kiss Rupert on the cheek. “All right, to my car?”

“No,” said Rupert.

“To your car!” Buffy sang out, towing Rupert out of the library. Pleased by her success, Jenny followed.

So it turned out Jenny had been completely off base, calling taking care of Rupert a challenge. Challenge was the word she used to describe troublesome students, or a virus on her computer, or another generally frustrating but inevitably solvable problem. In essence, calling Rupert’s illness a challenge implied that there was a logical way to figure out how to help him, and a good two hours spent trying to convince him to take cold medicine had made it clear that that was very much not the case.

“It’ll make me all loopy, Jenny,” Rupert informed her, completely disregarding the fact that he had said this exact sentence a good five times already. “A Watcher needs to be on high alert, not—not incapacitated by medicines designed to ease one into sleep—”

“Rupert,” said Jenny, who was by this point absolutely exhausted, “take the damn medicine.”

“I am a Watcher,” said Rupert with dignity, “not an invalid, and I shall not waste time being sick!”

“It’s not a waste of time to just let me take care of you!” Jenny snapped, too tired to remember how to be gentle. “Just—god, Rupert, you’re sick, and I care about you, and I want you to get better! And you’re not going to be doing that if you refuse point-blank to do the things that will help you get better!”

Rupert blinked at her, stunned. Then, in one smooth motion, he picked up the cold medicine, poured it into the little plastic cup, and drank it.

Jenny looked at him for a long five seconds, trying to figure out what the hell she had said that had changed his mind. “Okay,” she said, exhausted. “Are we going to have to spend another two hours trying to get you into bed, or—”

Rupert reached out and took her hand, and Jenny realized that he was shaking. “No, you can—you can just—I’ll go to bed, Jenny,” he murmured, squeezing her hand.

“I’ll help you,” said Jenny immediately. “Lean on me.”

“I’m f—” At the look on Jenny’s face, Rupert stopped, then let her help him up without further comment.

As Jenny carefully led him to her bedroom, she found herself wondering if her taking care of him had been as good an idea as she’d thought it was. Granted, she knew he needed someone there, because otherwise he’d have ended up researching until he was legitimately too sick to work, but…was she the kind of someone who was cut out for playing nurse? Their relationship always felt so fragile as it was—more than he realized, even, considering what she was keeping from him—and she felt as though she wasn’t good at being anything but frustrated and tired. Rupert was the gentle, caring one, with his soft touches and sweet kisses. If it had been her sick, Rupert would have been patient, and calm, and so much better at this.

Jenny was brought out of her mini-spiral as they reached her bedroom and then her bed, at which point she gently lowered Rupert down to the best of her abilities. He hadn’t been leaning on her quite as much as Buffy, which made the process a little easier, because Buffy hadn’t been wrong about how much bigger Rupert was than her. “Rest up, okay?” she whispered, then pressed an awkward kiss to his cheek, hoping it might make up for her impassioned outburst.

“Mm. Love you,” Rupert mumbled, eyes already shut.

Jenny felt his words like a jolt to her system. He thinks you’re someone else, her brain was telling her, he’s hopped up on cold medicine, he doesn’t know what he’s saying—but the part of her that knew they could both pretend this didn’t happen in the morning, that part of her let her lean down and whisper, “I love you too. Rest up.”

Jenny woke up all stiff and achy, Rupert’s head pillowed on her lap. She was used to stretching out and sprawling across the bed like a starfish, so lying propped up against the pillows with a weight in her lap (however much-loved that weight might be) wasn’t exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep.

Rupert was awake, and looked almost nervously up at her, as though expecting her to push him away. “Morning,” he said hoarsely.

“You sound awful,” Jenny informed him, unable to keep the tenderness out of her voice. “Do you want some water?”

“Hm,” said Rupert noncommittally, snuggling his cheek into her leg.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Tired,” Rupert mumbled, closing his eyes again.

Jenny sighed, leaning back into the pillows and trying to feel bad about telling Rupert she loved him last night. She didn’t. Most of what she felt right now was tired, coupled with a little warm rush every time Rupert shifted to get more comfortable. She ran her hand through his hair and thought about how maybe she could try and make him tea when he was feeling a little better.

It took Rupert about fifteen minutes to properly wake up, at which point he sat up, leaned against the pillows, and said tiredly, “I don’t want to be a bother, Jenny—you have better things to do than to, to take care of me—”

“Shh,” said Jenny, and kissed his forehead. “How’s your throat? Do you want me to make you some tea?”

Rupert didn’t answer. He leaned forward, eyes fluttering shut, and bumped his forehead against Jenny’s. “Don’t go, will you?” he mumbled. It didn’t sound at all like he was talking about her leaving to go make tea.

“Not ever,” Jenny promised without thinking. Rupert’s eyes snapped up to meet hers—promises were different in the morning, when they were both wide awake—and she blushed, stumbling to qualify her statement. “I mean—not ever as in I’m not ever leaving while—while you’re, um, sick. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Rupert agreed. He had a small, wondrous smile on his face.

Jenny almost wanted to ask if he remembered how, the night before, he’d said love you and she’d said I love you too. She decided against it. Call her a romantic, but she kinda didn’t want such a monumental moment to be while Rupert was sick and she had barely gotten any sleep. “Tea?” she asked.

“Please,” said Rupert, and rubbed his nose against hers.

Jenny smiled, squeezed his shoulder, and clambered awkwardly off the bed, realizing belatedly that neither of them had ever changed out of their work clothes. Sighing, she pulled her sweater off, then stepped out of her skirt, rummaging for a t-shirt and sweats in the bureau. “I think I have chamomile,” she said over her shoulder. “Will that be okay?”

“Quite,” said Rupert, who seemed to be restricting himself to one-word answers.

T-shirt on, Jenny turned, donning the shorts as she gave Rupert a sympathetic smile. “Throat that bad?” she asked.

Rupert made a face.

God, he was cute. How dare he be that cute? “Okay, well, I’ll go try and fix that for you,” said Jenny, and leaned down over him to press a quick kiss to his mouth. “Stay here and I’ll come back in with tea and—are you hungry?” Rupert shook his head. “So just tea for now.”

Jenny wasn’t very good at making people tea. She’d always been more of a coffee girl herself, and when she was sick, she usually just drove out and bought herself some tea from Starbucks or something. It was a trial-and-error kind of process, and the tea came out tasting mostly like hot water, but Rupert’s face lit up when she came in with the mug, which made everything feel worth it.

“Is it doing anything?” she asked, wincing a little at the look on Rupert’s face as he took a sip. “I know I’m not that great at—”

Rupert put the tea down. He reached across the bed and held her hand.

“Oh,” said Jenny, and blushed. “Okay.”

“Terrible tea, Jenny,” said Rupert, but he said it in the same way he’d said that he loved her. “Really quite awful.”

Jenny laughed and moved a little closer to him. “Feeling better?” she asked, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

Rupert hummed, leaning into her hand. “A bit,” he said. “Helps to get some sleep.”

“Are you gonna fight me if I ask you to take some ibuprofen?”

“I don’t think so,” said Rupert softly.

Jenny smiled, a little frustrated, a little in love. “What changed?” she asked.

Rupert hesitated. Then he said, “I don’t think anyone has ever taken care of me when I get sick. Not with—not for a reason outside what they expect of me.”

That statement, coming from one of the best people Jenny knew, made her want to punch a wall. Or a Watcher. Or whatever family member that had instilled such a fucked-up sense of duty in someone so fucking precious. “Well, I do expect you to get better,” she said, trying to laugh.

“Jenny,” said Rupert wryly, like he knew what she was trying to do.

Jenny exhaled, a nervous breath. “I’m not very good at taking care of people,” she said. “But—” and she didn’t know how to finish that sentence without turning this relationship into something really permanent. She stopped herself, and kissed him.

Rupert kissed her back, rubbing his nose against hers when she pulled away. “You’re doing a damn good job, I think,” he informed her.

“You haven’t been taken care of before,” Jenny countered. “I could be doing a terrible job and it’d still be better than nothing.”

“You’re trying,” said Rupert, “and that’s what counts,” and he rolled onto his side, throwing an arm over her stomach. “I,” he said, “am going back to sleep, I think. If the children beep you, tell them that I am ill and that you are my de facto Watcher for the day.”

“Sounds fun,” said Jenny, kissing the top of his head. “Do I get to wear tweed and talk all British?”

“Only if the children get it on video,” said Rupert into her shoulder.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Giles,” said Jenny contentedly, settling back into the pillows. “Let me know if you need anything, okay, babe?”

“Babe,” Rupert repeated, and giggled to himself. Jenny decided to attribute that to sick-person brain.

Buffy and the kids showed up with a care package after school, full of crossword puzzles and British-looking snacks and chicken soup from Buffy’s mom. “Tell him get better soon from us!” said Buffy earnestly, handing the package over. “We’d stay, but, y’know—sick person germs.”

“Gotcha,” said Jenny, grinning. “He’ll be happy you guys stopped by. I’m pretty sure he’s still napping, anyway, so—”

“Nice place, Ms. Calendar!” said Xander with interest, peering over Buffy’s shoulder. “Is that the new Nintendo system?”

“Anyway,” said Jenny. As much as she liked these kids, she was pretty sure Rupert needed actual rest, and having three teenagers loudly playing video games in her living room might make it difficult for her stuffy librarian to get some sleep.

“She’ll let you play on it when Giles gets better,” said Willow wisely, shepherding Buffy and Xander down the stairs. “Thanks for taking care of Giles, Ms. Calendar!”

“Of course she’s gonna take care of him,” Jenny heard Buffy saying, “she li-ikes him—” at which point Jenny shut the door, amused.

Rupert was in that semi-foggy half-asleep state that he’d been in for most of the day, but he did perk up a little when Jenny came in with the care package, which was, frankly one of the most adorable things she had ever seen. “Is that for me?” he said, visibly delighted.

“As a matter of fact, it is,” Jenny answered, sitting down on the bed next to him and opening the package. “Lots of sick person stuff. Plus some chicken soup from Mrs. Summers, if you’re feeling up to eating…?”

“I can manage chicken soup, I think,” said Rupert happily, pressing a slightly off-center kiss to Jenny’s cheek. “This really is very nice, Jenny, thank you very much for doing it—”

Jenny decided that now probably wouldn’t be the right time to remind him that she had spent a good two days fighting him to get him to lie down. “Of course,” she said instead, squeezing his shoulder. “How’s my English patient?”

“A bit better, I think,” said Rupert, then sneezed. “Well. Not all better, but getting there.”

“That’s a good start,” said Jenny, her voice softening. “You work yourself too hard, you know that?”

She was expecting some opposition from Rupert on this point. What she wasn’t expecting was for him to sigh, lean into her, and say quietly, “I know.”

“Then why do it?”

“Who else will?”

“Me,” said Jenny.

Rupert looked slowly up at her, a look in his eyes she had only seen a few times before. The moment after their first kiss, the night when he draped his jacket over her shoulders, and—now. Apparently. “You,” he echoed, as though finding the answer to a question he hadn’t known he had.

I love you too, Jenny thought, and realized that maybe they didn’t need to say it to know it.