For ransom drabbles or oneshots imagine...Taking care of a sick Ransom? Even though he’s usually a jerk to you...
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader
Word Count: 2,434
Summary: Ransom is sick, and you’re sent by Harlan to take care of him.
Warnings: Explicit language.
A/N: How about some Fluff Friday, friends?! I absolutely loved this ask, so thank you, nonnie! Hope you enjoy this ❤️
“What are you doing here?”
You couldn’t even be offended at Ransom’s question or the scowl he wore when asking it.
Not when his greasy hair was sticking up every which way, he had bags under his eyes you could use for grocery shopping, and his nose was as red as your sweater.
You eyed the way he wore his (probably expensive) throw blanket as a cape and grinned up at him from his front doorway.
“Your grandfather sent me over to take care of you.”
Even three days into the flu, Hugh Ransom Drysdale smirked as he gave you an obscenely slow onceover. “Oh yeah? Now he’s lending out his sexy little assistant? And how, exactly, are you gonna take care of me, kitten?”
Ah, that didn’t take long. It was an art form really, the way this man could wield his asshole superpowers.
You didn’t even get a chance to glare at the annoying nickname he insisted on calling you, because Ransom had a coughing fit.
Once he finished, he groaned, holding his head with one hand while using the other to dig some tissues from the pocket of his hoodie to wipe his runny nose.
You made ew face as he then proceeded to blow his nose, a few times.
Ransom somehow managed to sound more stuffed up as he glowered at you in misery, “What are you looking at?”
“I’ll let you know once I figure it out,” you turned his smirk on him as you gently shoved your way inside his home.
Huffing, Ransom closed the door behind you before slowly following you into the kitchen. He hefted himself into one of the stools and slumped across the granite isle, watching you.
You busied yourself with unloading your reusable grocery bag.
Ransom’s eyes flickered over the various groceries, cold medicines, tissues, and, well now, that was a nice surprise. He smirked at the bottle of expensive scotch, reaching for it. “This from Harlan?”
You frowned at the liquor, nodding. “He insisted I bring over ‘Thrombey NyQuil.’”
Ransom snickered at your air quotes.
He nodded at your grocery haul. “And all that? I’m not really in a Gordon Ramsay kinda mood.”
Your hands fell to your hips as you stared at him. “Have you ever actually used this kitchen, Hugh?”
He smirked. “Sure have. I have very fond memories of this counter and an enthusiastic blonde.” He patted the granite beside him with a wistful sigh.
“And how many times do I need to tell you to call me ‘Ransom,’ Y/N?”
“At least a few more, Hugh.” You began opening and closing his cabinets before glancing at him with a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose you can point me in the direction of your pots?”
His eyes twinkled. “No, but I can and am excited to point you in the direction of my emergency stash of condoms - the drawer next to the fridge.”
You sighed, an exhale of longsuffering. “Your grandfather is paying me overtime to be here, so not even your disgusting personality will ruin it for me.”
“I’ll double your overtime if you ditch kitchen duty and come naked cuddle with me.”
Your eyes narrowed, but then Ransom started coughing again, and you couldn’t help but grin.
He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, looking pathetic.
“Have you showered?” you asked. “It will probably open up your sinuses and help with any body aches you may have. And, ya know, hygiene in general is your friend.”
Ransom shot you a dirty look. “You saying I smell bad?”
“I wouldn’t know. But you look like you smell bad.”
You yelped as he tossed his snotty tissues at you. “Don’t be a dick!”
“You started it. You’re supposed to be taking care of me, not mocking me.”
“I can do both,” you winked, turning away to rummage in the cabinets some more. You gave a triumphant cheer as you unearthed a large pot and lid. Another stroke of luck as you found a cutting board and began to rinse the produce you bought.
“Turmeric chicken orzo soup.”
“God, you must hate me,” Ransom muttered, leaning his elbow on the counter and planting his chin in his hand to watch you.
You laughed. “It’s delicious. Has a bit of a kick. I bet you’ll feel amazing by tomorrow.”
It was quiet for a few minutes as you cleaned and diced your way through all the veggies. Before moving to prep the chicken breasts, you glanced up to find Ransom dozing.
You sighed, rounding the counter. “Hugh,” you hesitated before touching the back of your hand to his forehead. You hissed at how feverish he was. “Have you taken any medicine?!”
Ransom blinked dazedly, leaning into your cool, soft touch. “Hmm?”
His weight began to slump toward you. You pressed your hands to his chest, gently pushing him back into his seat. “Hugh.”
“Don’t call me that,” he whined, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
You sighed. “Fine…Ransom.” You tensed just saying it, resisting the urge to glance around to see if anyone else had heard. “You should go lay down for a bit. Then shower. Then the soup will be ready, and you can eat.”
“That sounds like a lot of work,” he grumbled, shivering. “And I’m so tired, Y/N.” Those pretty blue eyes of his blinked sleepily a you.
It was strange seeing Ransom Drysdale so vulnerable. So unlike his usual cocksure self.
You were both pleasantly surprised and creeped out as fuck.
You moved to the fridge and retrieved a pitcher of water, digging around in the overhead cabinets until you found the glasses. Pouring a tall glass of water, you reached for the strongest cold meds you brought and popped out two capsules.
“Take these,” you told Ransom, moving to stand in front of him.
It was a testament to how shitty he felt, that Ransom didn’t argue, didn’t even make a quip or gross innuendo. He just downed the pills and half the glass of water.
“Come on, to bed with you,” you gently grabbed his arm and directed him to the bottom of the stairs. Then you paused. “Wait, have you changed your sheets or cleaned up since you’ve been sick?”
“Right,” you snorted. “Why don’t you crash in the guest room? Once the soup is on, I can change your sheets upstairs, okay?”
“Rather you’d be spread out on my sheets,” Ransom mumbled.
“Excuse me?” Now you did glare, crossing your arms over your chest.
Ransom coughed pathetically, making his baby blues go big and wide.
Your annoyance evaporated as amusement took its place. “You must have been such a handful growing up.”
His lips twitched, and then another coughing fit overcame him. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, this is the worst.” He sniffled, wiping his nose before shoving his new collection of snotty tissues into his pocket. “My throat feels like it’s on fucking fire.”
“Go take a nap,” you said firmly, pointing down the hall to the guest room. “If you’re not awake by dinner time, I’ll come get you.”
Sighing, Ransom shuffled past you. He got halfway down the hall before turning back to you. “Y/N?”
“Can you make grilled cheese to go with the soup?”
Your belly fluttered at Ransom’s sweet tone and Disney princess eyes. The reaction was so unlike your normal urge to kick or strangle him that you fidgeted, glancing away. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He sighed again, throwing you one last forlorn look before disappearing into the guest room.
“Dammit,” you muttered to yourself, moving back toward the kitchen.
You figured dealing with a sick Ransom wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park.
What you didn’t count on?
Enjoying taking care of him so much.
It was a couple of hours later and you were just taking a tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven when you heard the downstairs shower kick on.
Ransom must have taken your smelly jibe to heart.
You turned and checked the soup that was simmering on low heat. You took another taste smiling. This stuff was good. You were excited to have it for dinner.
You were assembling some soon to be grilled cheese sandwiches when you caught movement from your periphery.
Glancing up, you saw Ransom emerge from the hallway, in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.
Your eyes widened, jumping from his hair—wet and slicked back—to his face, to the broad, rounded slope of his shoulders, and further down still to his glorious pecs and the dark hair that covered them. You swallowed as your traitorous gaze delighted in the way his impressive six-pack framed his happy trail, which disappeared beneath a fluffy white towel that your brain was declaring the enemy.
You wondered what lay beneath that towel.
And if it was as glorious as what rested above it.
“I feel like maybe I should charge admission for the show, kitten.”
Ransom’s voice had you jumping, your face growing warm as your eyes shot up to his face.
Of course, he was smirking at you, the smug prick.
“Dinner will be ready soon,” you squeaked as you quickly turned away and busied yourself with heating some butter in a pan for the grilled cheese.
You could feel Ransom watching you for a long moment, and then you heard his quiet chuckle before the stairs creaked with his ascent.
A while later found you and Ransom sitting at his small dining table for dinner.
He was thankfully (and disappointingly, chirped your traitorous brain) dressed in flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved henley. The thin cotton shirt kept shifting and pulling against the bulge of his biceps whenever Ransom moved, and you found it difficult not to stare.
You were shaking yourself from another careless oogle when you realized Ransom was staring down at his steaming bowl of soup with eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Laughing, you nudged his leg with your foot under the table. “Just try it, you big baby.”
Ransom’s narrowed gaze shot to you briefly before he lifted his spoon to his mouth. He slurped up his first taste of turmeric chicken orzo soup, and his eyes widened in pleasant surprise.
Your look was haughty as you awaited his response.
“It’s not awful,” he said at last, eagerly scooping up another spoonful.
“You’re welcome, Ransom,” you said airily. “So glad you like it. Oh gosh, please stop with the gratitude, it’s embarrassing.” Smirking at him, you indulged in your awesome soup, watching in amusement as Ransom gleefully separated his grilled cheese halves.
One bite of the oozy, cheesy goodness had him moaning his pleasure.
“Jesus Christ, this is so good,” he hummed, licking melted cheese from his fingers. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had grilled cheese?”
“Not a regular option on the menu o’ Linda?”
Ransom snorted. Loudly. “Are you shitting me? Bread? In the Drysdale residence? She’d go into cardiac arrest, the maniac.”
You couldn’t suppress a giggle. Your eyes flickered up and you froze.
Ransom was smiling at you. Not smirking. Not sneering. No devious intent on plain display.
Just a warm, open smile that made your heart skip a beat.
Uh oh, you were in so much trouble.
You quickly dropped your eyes to your dinner, busying yourself with eating instead of oogling the Thrombey sitting across from you.
Once your plates and bowls were cleared (and you just had to tease Ransom at requesting seconds of your soup), you told him to go rest in the living room while you cleaned up.
He didn’t argue, and you smiled after him as he whipped his throw blanket from the back of the sofa and settled it around his shoulders once more.
Once you finished cleaning up, you moved into the living room with some more cold meds, water, and a plate of cookies.
Ransom looked torn between interest in the cookies and exhaustion as he slumped against the couch cushions.
“Tuckered out already, Drysdale?” You teased, leaning over him to test the warmth of his forehead once more. You frowned, “Hmm, I think your fever may be creeping up again. Time for another dose of the good stuff.”
“Soup?” Ransom asked hopefully.
“You have leftovers for tomorrow,” you smiled. You sat beside him, passing over the cold meds and water.
He took them without argument, sniffling as he pulled the blanket tighter. “Fuck, I haven’t felt this shitty in a long time.”
You hummed in sympathy, stretching your feet out in front of you as you reclined against the sofa beside him. “The flu usually only lasts about a week. You should be in the clear soon.”
“You gonna stay with me till then, kitten?” Ransom asked around a yawn. He rolled his head toward you. “Take care of me?”
Turning to meet his gaze, you shrugged. “That was Harlan’s request,” you murmured, breath catching as Ransom reached for your hand.
You swallowed as his thumb gently brushed over your knuckles. Then he was lifting your hand to his face and pressing your palm to his feverish cheek.
He sighed happily at the coolness of your touch, leaning into it like he couldn’t get enough.
You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, feeling a faint pull of envy at his ridiculous lashes as they settled against the pale slope of his cheek.
“You should go to bed, Ransom,” you whispered, thumb brushing against his soft skin.
“Not yet,” he mumbled. “Wanna stay out here, with you.” He shifted closer as he stretched out, and suddenly Ransom’s head was in your lap.
You went stock still, a swell of panic rising just as quickly as a wave of giddiness. You teetered between the two for a moment before your hand slowly touched Ransom’s hair, like you couldn’t help yourself.
He hummed in content at the contact, and your fingers began to move of their own accord, gently raking through the glossy strands.
Butterflies the size of pterodactyls flapped around in your stomach, but you didn’t move beyond the soft petting. You didn’t make a peep.
You just continued to play with Ransom’s hair as he dozed against you, enjoying the quiet moment together.
It was sudden, the realization - that even if you weren’t getting paid overtime for this, even if Harlan hadn’t called in this favor, you think maybe, somehow, you would have found yourself here, with Ransom, eventually.
A/N: I actually really loved this, and that sweet ending?? And our sick, soft boi, 🥺 let me love you!
P.S. Exquisite heart divider by the talented @whimsicalrogers 🙏
Permanent Tag List: @love-more122 @jtargaryen18 @la-cey
@sweater-daddiesdumbdork @amythedvdhoarder @andreasworlsboring101
@xoxabs88xox @peaceinourtime82
Chris Tag List: @donutloverxo @van0413 @patzammit @keiva1000
@ifuckedchrisevans @onetwo3000 @harrysthiccthighss @tacohead13 @ozarkthedog
Tag lists are open - please message me to be added! 😘
Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though! ❤️
