Simon Riley x sick!reader
No cw just Simon fluff. I’m not even sick. Just thinkin about it. Say it with me now, Isle no beta read!
Tissues filled the bin next to the bed, crumbled and falling out. The bottle of medicine was perpetually opened, cap rarely washed these past few days.
You were completely and utterly sick. And not the runny nose, occasional cough, and sneeze. No, you were sick. You shivered and sweat at the same time, groaned and whined at every movement, and could barely coax yourself into getting up to use the toilet.
It was just you, hardly taking care of yourself. Simon had been gone for weeks, and you had no indication of when he’d get back.
You lived off toast and cucumbers, occasionally trying a thin soup. Whatever you had came back up just a few minutes later besides the two. Water could never moisten your dry throat, no matter how much you drank. Every time you swallowed made your ears rumble unpleasantly.
The only escape you had was sleep, and sleep you did.
The rain pounded on his broad shoulders as Simon unlocked the door, duffel slung across his back getting soaked no doubt. His hair had grown out slightly since his last cut, leading beads of water to drip down his nose to his hands.
He fumbled with the key for a moment before it clicked, allowing your boyfriend into the house. It was dry, and hot. Too hot, higher than he’d ever let you put the thermostat.
It was late, and Simon wasn’t surprised to come home to a dark home. You went to bed early most nights, curling up against your pillow wishing it was him.
Simon dropped his duffel onto the doormat while pressing the toe of his boot to the opposite heel, and repeating. He bent down to side the shoes to the wall, right next to yours. Peeling off his soaked jacket was worrisome, as he didn’t want to get anything wet.
After he’d gotten himself put away, he made his way up the stairs to your bedroom, noticing the door cracked and the soft glow of your bedside lamp against the hallway wall.
He couldn’t imagine you were still awake, it was nearly four in the morning.
When he rounded the corner of the frame and pushed open the cracked door, he was met with your pathetic, sickly frame and what must’ve been five boxes of used tissues. Your face was sunken like you hadn’t eaten, and you’d certainly lost weight. Pale lips and greasy hair greeted him, much to his dismay.
Simon frowned, moving to your side nearly immediately, his hand on your burning cheek.
“Lovie? Ye awake?” He asked softly, receiving a soft hum from you.
“Si..?” You mumbled, eyes still closed as you leaned into his cool hand. You weren’t sure if you were dreaming, especially since every sick dream you’d had was about your love. But your stuffed nostrils were filled with a scent that was undeniably his.
“Yea dovie… m’here.. yer a sick thing, aren’t ye?” He cooed softly, watching you barely open your eyes.
“Si… you’re all wet.. hehe.. did you shower?”
You giggled softly, weakly moving a hand to ruffle his damp hair. Not too long ago you had two capfuls of medicine, and you were feeling them now.
“Somethin’ li’ that love, somethin’ close,” he murmured softly, brushing your damp hair off of your sweat slicked forehead.
“M’gonna clean up yer little stash of tissues here and then maybe we get ye to a shower, hmm?”
You nodded, barely even aware of what he said, he trusting him more than words could relay. And true to his word, Simon cleaned up your mess, and got you ready for a shower.
He set up the a shower chair in the bathroom, the same one he’d used when his knee got messed up a few deployments back.
You sat on it as he scrubbed your hair, fingers massaging your scalp as you nearly slept. He didn’t care that he was standing outside of the warm stream of water shivering, you’d clearly been suffering enough without him help to take care of you recently.
He toweled you off, and had you sit on the counter with a protective hand on your side. Simon did what he could of your skincare, knowing you had probably neglected it during your sickness despite your fierce dedication.
“What are you doing Si..?”
“M’rubbin’ that white crap on your face that ye like..” he muttered through focused eye contact, fingers gently rubbing it into the spots that always got dry quicker.
“You should’ve—cough—taken me to dinner first,” you grinned, eyes barely open as your head lolled and rolled.
Simon rolled his eyes, scoffing.
“Glad to hear yer still the bratty bird I know when yer sick..”
That earned a giggle from you, and a soft chuckle from him. God, he was so in love with you he was putting moisturizer on your face as you made cum jokes while sick as a dog. Never in a million years could he love someone else like he loved you.
And when he got you all set, hair mostly dry and a fresh glass of water, he sat you on the floor for just a moment, stripping the bed and putting on new sheets.
Simon collected you ever so gently, and pressed a kiss to your now cooler forehead as you nuzzled into his chest. Laying you both down in the fresh bedding and holding you nice and tight, Simon stroked your hair gently, whispering sweet little words in your ears.
“Sweet bird.. still my pretty girl when yer all sick… I reckon I look li’ a right mess when I’m ill..”
You hummed, yawning and shivering slightly still.
“Yea… but I still love you Si…”
He chuckled, stroking your hair still. He wrapped his arms around you a bit tighter, trying to warm you up nicely.
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