When his secretary came in with a cold days ago, Miles sent him home early. He sanitized the secretary’s desk and his own office for three hours. Miles did not like getting sick, and he did not believe in allowing his subordinates to work when they were ill. Efficiency and well being went hand in hand, and he could allow him to go home while still maintaining his long schedule as a Chief Prosecutor.
Unfortunately, his body has other ideas about his health. He sneezes the first day, the second comes with a pinch behind his nose and a tension in his head, and the third, he can not get up from bed with the pain from the congestion.
“You need to rest,” Phoenix says, as he wipes Miles’ face with a damp cloth. Miles tries to push him away, but he remains adamant about his ministrations. He grabs a tissue from the bedside table and holds it to his nose. “Blow.”
“Noooooo,” Miles says, voice blocked with mucus. “I don’t want to.”
“You’ll feel better when you can breathe. Blow.”
Miles frowns, and then he blows through his nose, a loud honk following. Phoenix cleans up his snot and then deposits the tissue in the trash. He uses the cloth again to rid his nose of any sticky residue before leaving to take the cloth to the laundry.
“Thank you,” Miles says, when Phoenix returns. “You should go to work.”
“I already told Athena and Apollo. Trucy will help assist them, but they’ll be fine, dear.” Phoenix pulls up the sheets and lays down, scooching closer to him.
“Nooo,” Miles says. Weakly, he pushes him away. “You’ll get sick.”
“Will you feel better if I cuddle you?” Miles says nothing but lets out a soft whine. “Then come here, you stubborn man.”
They meet in the middle. Miles rests his head on Phoenix’s chest. His fingers pull through his hair, playing with his silky strands. He speaks to him in a low timbre.
“I saw a beautiful pen the other day. It had a nice, dark ink, and it moved across the paper so smoothly. Still, it was flexible enough to write or sketch with.”
“Did you get it?” Miles asks.
“Not for me, but for you. It’s sitting on your desk at work.”
“I want the pen,” Miles says.
“You’ll get to use it soon. Did you listen to the song I sent you the other day? I keep thinking of the lyrics anytime I play it when I look through documents.” Phoenix hums a few bars and Miles taps his fingers on his chest, the sound resonating beneath his ear. He doesn’t respond. He should probably take some more medicine soon. “It’s such a nice melody. The artist wrote it for her boyfriend when he was only able to send letters to her. Such a sweet story. I think she put a picture on her wall…”
He falls into a light sleep to his musings. He doesn’t wake for the rest of the morning; instead, he basks in his warmth.
Written for my sick beloved, who is now feeling much better! Hope this heals a part of your heart that just wants to be held <3