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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"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."

He winced, she winced, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder in apology. "Thank you"

"Love you." he murmurs softly.

"I love you to." right here, right now, it didn't seem sappy to say that. "Get some sleep, I'm not going anyway okay?"

"Okay." he drifts into a more natural sleep easily.

And she did just as she said she would. She stayed put. She hadn't slept well while he was in the coma, and his heartbeat was...soothing. It was perfectly acceptable to nap with the sick person wasn't it?

Sick person's arms are rather like steel bars right now, so she'd better be planning on sticking around at the very least.

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