Rose's Sickfic Plague Pit

[thethirteenthchild]

I'm sick so I'm giving my characters my wretched cold. Specific characters available upon request. Intended to be very low effort. Starters in the comments!

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[carefulinspekshun]

Hector's tail curls into a ridiculous little delighted curl, and that smile of his widens.

"Dat's a funny co-ints-ee-dents, because yew're my favorite guy, and I love yew, too," Hector turns a bit for a moment as he speaks, just to get a better look at Capochin. It's not often that he looks this relaxed, even if it is due to his illness. It's a lovely sight; hopefully, with time, Hector can get him to take a load off more often, without having to be convinced by a disorienting fever. "Get some good sleeps, love-lee."

[staybizzy]

Safe and warm despite the discomfort of illness, full of food and tea, and so in love, Capochin drifts off almost immediately. He snores loudly, his nose plugged by congestion. But he sleeps deeply, looking a bit like a teddy bear.

Perhaps when Hector is done working, he'll be willing to risk his own nose to get some cuddles.

[carefulinspekshun]

The scheduling doesn't take all that long to complete, nor do the report reviews. There's probably more to be done, but when he stands up, taking a moment to be satisfied with his work, he takes a little look over to the bed. Capochin's out like a light, and looking incredibly cozy.

He shouldn't. He might wake Capochin up, there's other things to be done, the Bizzyboys working today really should have one of their bosses to look to for instruction, and there's a very solid chance that whatever he has, Hector could easily catch...

...But, on the other hand, the bed's looking awfully comfortable, and surely Capochin could use a little bit of morale-boosting snuggling?

Ah, what the Drain. Surely a few minutes won't hurt.

Boots kicked off and glasses set aside, Hector piles himself into his side of the bed, pulling himself close enough to pull Capochin into the last bit of closeness. Arms find their way around him, his chin sets atop ruffled hair, and his tail latches onto Capochin's own.

When he starts sneezing in a few days, it'll still be completely worth it.

[staybizzy]

The moment that Hector is in the bed, Capochin latches onto him without even really waking up, mumbling incoherently. His tail winds even tighter to Hector's. He's running hot, and sweat has soaked his clothes. But he is loved, and he loves deeply in return.

"Mmgh, soft," he mutters.

skipping ahead a couple days! :3c

[carefulinspekshun]

"Mhm, gotta stay nice n' soft n' cozy," Hector murmurs, quiet and affectionate. "Yew get some good rest, Cappy."

-

A few days pass, and Hector does what he can to dote on Capochin through the worst of it - as soon as that fierce determination to be self-sufficient comes back, though, he's in no place to argue with it.

Not only because it's easier to let Capochin do things they way he prefers to, though, but due to the slow decline into feeling awful Hector's been inching into.

Back in his mortal life, before he'd ascended to godhood, he didn't get sick often; as it was with anything he struggled with, however, he muscled through it any way he could possibly manage, assured people that nothing was wrong, and saved sinking away and rotting in bed for his scarce few moments of downtime.

After several decades of not getting sick, and his instincts to keep his vulnerable parts hidden away now at war with the parts of him that are so desperate for his suffering to be seen, he's handling it... not especially well.

Despite waking up feeling worse than he'd gone to bed, the illness deciding to truly start to settle in, the former of those two instincts is the winner for the moment. He does what he can not to get too close to any of the Bizzyboys in particular to keep what he's got from spreading too much, but he maintains cheer where he can, writing off any concerns as allergies catching up to him.

This doesn't persist to when he's alone at his desk, charting out some plans to assist with some local gardening efforts, when the brainfog and fatigue gets the best of him, leaving him staring in a perplexed daze that teeters on anxious at the paper in front of him.

(The writing on it is borderline incomprehensible, and that isn't helping him sort out how to proceed literally at all.)