sliceitwithwind | (no subject)

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Braig is the one who makes the phone call, leaving a message on Aya's machine. "Hey, babe, Dilan can't make it tonight. Woke up with a fever. Call back when you've got the chance."

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He wakes up off and on for the first five days. And then he's in a coma for four.

Aya slept more in the chair than she did in the cot or even Braig's bed. She slept better all curled up? And then the coma hit and she barely let herself sleep at all. Sure, it was normal?

She'd lost way too many people to not be terrified. She hadn't expected that, really.

Braig shows her how to change the sheets around him when he starts sweating, and keeps her as calm as possible. Four days after he drops into the coma he wakes up again and smiles sweetly at her.

At least for Braig's peace of mind Aya was a very quiet terrified? And she'd known enough to get herself away from the bed for short period. Hot baths, cooking, mild cleaning...that was about as long away as she could stand.

Her answering smile to Dilan's waking came very slowly after the sheer, naked relief. "Hey love. Missed you." she informed him soberly.

"Hi." his voice is dry, cracked, but he smiles a little broader, "Love you."

From where her chair was at she could reach out and lay a hand on his ankle...just touching him was reassuring? "I'm drinking water at the moment..." she offered. "Or I can run get you something else?"

Yeah, she wasn't going to be the one filling him in on her terror?

"Water is good." he promises with a faint smile.

She reached down to scoop her glass off the floor, then scooted up onto the bed to offer it to him. "I think I'm going to inform Ben that he gets to keep his sick days. He does not get to trade them for your version of sick." she teased quietly.

"O-kay?" Dilan asks slowly, "What?"

"Ben thought it be cool to do your two weeks of sick instead of sporadic sick days during the year. i get to tell him no." she tweaked his nose gently.

He thinks for a moment, "Ben's a good kid, but kind of an idiot." is his eventual decision.

That made her chuckle and drape her arm across his chest "Dilan, sweetie, most nine year olds are. Geniuses aside." she pointed out. "He's actually rather bright for the general average. He just thinks your way wastes less time..."

"It's harder on the body overall, though." he offers, tugging her into bed.

"I'll include that in my 'no Ben, no' speech." she laughed, taking the tugging as an invitation to cuddle along his side. Yes, she'd waited for an invitation because she wasn't sure how much illness made him hurt and where.

Everywhere, badly, he doesn't care. She is here. He is here. She smells good.

She smells like she's been using Braig's shampoo actually. She forgot hers. Remembered everything else, forgot the shampoo...

"Missed you" she murmured very, very quietly into his shoulder. "It's December 19th." she offered. Hey, dates were nifty for coma patients?

"Mmm. Thanks." he says, smiling against her hair and petting down her side gently, "Missed you tto, sweetie. Missed you too."

"Least I can do." she countered easily, the arm she wasn't currently laying on lifting to start drawing idle patterns on his chest. What? He was petting her! It was a perfectly understandable counter move! "Do you dream while you're under?" she asked idly.

He smiles at the designs, then shakes his head, "Not really. I can hear what everyone is doing, and I'm sort of awake, I just can't move."

She liked drawing patterns on Dilan. She was incredibly grateful that he liked to be drawn on, so..."Hell." she sighed "If I had known that I'd have kept reading for you. The sounds of report writing must have gotten really repetitive..."

"It's alright, hon. It is." he promises, reaching up to squeeze her hand gently.

She looked at his hand for a moment, studying the lines across it, then wrapped her fingers in his tightly. "Okay, if you say so." ~~next time she'd probably read still.~~

He gives her a squeeze, "Still going to be feverish and weak for a while. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize" she sighed, lifting their hands just enough to give his chest a thump. Tiny thump. "I want you well. Feverish and weak is a step in the right direction from coma." she pointed out wryly.

He winces at the thump and makes a face, "Yes, Aya."