A/N: I only own the OC and the idea
Bethany Clark, the "Baddest Bitch", stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her muscular frame. The hot water had barely made a dent in her fatigue after a grueling night at the squared circle. Her distinctive blonde and purple hair clung to her neck as she walked into the bedroom, her eyes immediately drawn to the lump beneath the covers. Her boyfriend, "Drilla" Dan Moloney, lay motionless, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Dan, known for being a force to be reckoned with in the ring alongside the Bullet Club War Dogs faction. But now, he looked so… vulnerable.
Ever since he'd returned from his own match, sweaty and exhausted, Bethany had noticed something was off with Dan. His usual robustness had waned into a pitiful pile of sniffles and moans. He'd complained of a fever and aches, which only grew worse as the night progressed. Despite his tough exterior, it was clear he was in no state to battle any foe—be it in the ring or the real world.
"You still feeling like shit baby?". Bethany's voice was a gentle rumble, full of concern as she approached the bed. Dan stirred, his eyes cracking open to reveal a glossy sheen of sickness. He managed a weak nod.
"I'll get you some tea," she said, planting a kiss on his forehead. It was hot to the touch, and she could feel the clammy sweat on his skin.
"Beth," Dan croaked, his voice a hoarse whisper, "can I have water instead please gorgeous?"
Bethany's heart went out to him, and she nodded, turning to leave the room. As she padded down the hallway in her bare feet, the cold tiles sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't bother with slippers; her mind was focused on Dan. She could hear the faint sound of his coughs echoing through the apartment.
In the kitchen, she filled a glass with cool water from the fridge and grabbed a few Tylenol from the cupboard. The apartment was eerily quiet, save for the occasional tick of the clock on the wall. She paused for a moment, listening to the distant hum of the city outside—a stark contrast to the raucous cheers and jeers they were used to.
When she returned to the bedroom, Dan was sitting up, his face flushed and eyes watery. "Here," she said softly, handing him the pills and water. "These should help with the fever and pain."
Dan took the pills gratefully, downing them with a sip of the cold liquid. "Thanks, darlin'." His voice was a little stronger, but the effort of speaking seemed to drain him. He leaned back into the pillows with a sigh.
"You're still feeling hot," she said, her hand lingering on his forehead. "Why don't you try to get some more sleep?".
"It's you. Walking around in just a towel isn't helping my temperature," Dan murmured with a faint smile, trying to lighten the mood despite his condition.
Bethany couldn't help but laugh, her hand lingering on his forehead a moment longer before pulling the covers back up to his chin. "At least I know this bug hasn't affected you too much, you're still a massive pervert," she teased gently.
Dan's smile grew a little wider, but the effort quickly drained him, and he sunk back into the pillows with a groan. "You know it, babe," he murmured before his eyes began to droop. "If I wasn't fucking sick I'd show you just how much I appreciate you."
Bethany chuckled, her heart swelling with affection. She knew he was trying to tough it out, but she could see the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. She pulled the covers up a little higher, tucking them around his shoulders.
"You just focus on getting better," she said, smoothing his damp hair back from his forehead. "I'll throw on a shirt, so I don't tempt you too much," she said, giving him a playful wink. She stepped into the closet, grabbing a clean shirt and slipping it on over her still-damp skin.
"I don't want you to get sick too," Dan mumbled, his eyes drifting shut.
"Don't worry, I'm tougher than you," she said, trying to keep the smile in her voice.
She knew he was right—she had to be careful not to catch it herself, but she couldn't resist the urge to take care of him. She pulled a chair up beside the bed and sat down, watching him closely. His breathing evened out, and within minutes, he was asleep.
Once Dan was asleep, she took a moment to survey the room. It was a mess of discarded wrestling gear and half-empty water bottles. A pile of dirty laundry sat in the corner, and the faint smell of sweat and effort lingered in the air. With a sigh, she stood and began to tidy up, her movements swift and efficient. She knew that cleanliness was essential when someone was sick, and she wanted him to recover as quickly as possible.
The sound of the TV in the living room grew louder as she approached it to turn it off. On the screen, their comrades were engaged in a heated battle, the flash of neon lights and the roar of the crowd a stark contrast to the quiet of their apartment. She paused for a moment, her eyes lingering on the images of wrestlers she knew so well. Then, with a decisive click, the TV went silent, leaving only the occasional cough from Dan to pierce the calm.
Bethany returned to the bedroom, her thoughts racing. The sight of Dan, so weak and vulnerable, stirred something deep within her—a protective instinct she hadn't felt in a long time. She'd spent so much of her life fighting that sometimes she forgot she was allowed to care for someone other than herself. But here he was, the man she loved, laid low by something as mundane as the flu, and all she wanted to do was make it better. She quickly grabbed her phone and sent a text to her and Dan's mutual friend, fellow countryman and another member of the Bullet Club War Dogs, Gabe Kidd.
Bethany: Hey, our boy's not doing well. You got any home remedies for flu?"
Bethany's thumbs danced over the screen, sending the message into the ether. She knew Gabe had a unique outlook on health, a blend of old-school British remedies and modern science. A few seconds later, her phone buzzed with a response.
Gabe 🤬: Yea, got some stuff that'll sort him out. Tell him to drink hot toddies. Y'kna alcohol will sort our boy out in no time.
Bethany: U essentially telling me to get my boyfriend pissed on highballs to cure his flu?
Gabe 🤬: Yea. Might work but then again it's D so probly not. Tell him to drink lots of fluids, get plenty of rest and keep the room cool. And tell him to man up!
Bethany: OH THANKS LIKE I HAVENT THOUGHT OF THAT! NOT HELPFUL GABE!!! U kno better than to offer "man up" to Dan. Y'know he's a stubborn bastard.
Gabe 🤬: Aight, aight. Get him some Lemsip, that shit's magic. And tell him to eat chicken soup. My mum swears by it
Bethany: Where am I gonna get chicken soup from in Japan at night?
Gabe 🤬: Ain't u eard of Uber Eats, B.
Bethany: Ugh, smartass. But yeah, good call. Thanks.
Gabe🤬: Na worries. Make sure our boys fighting fit yea? Got matches to win.
Bethany: Will do. Thanks, Gabe.
With a roll of her eyes, she put her phone aside and turned her attention back to Dan. His breathing remained steady, but she could tell from his twitches and mumbles that he was in the throes of a feverish dream. She leaned over and placed a cool cloth on his forehead, the coolness bringing a slight groan of relief from his parched lips. He was a heavy sleeper, so she knew she had some time before he'd wake again.
Bethany decided to take Gabe's advice and get some Lemsip and chicken soup for Dan. She pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie over her damp shirt, her feet slipping into a pair of Jordan sneakers she kept by the door. The chilly night air hit her as soon as she stepped out of the apartment, sending a shiver down her spine. The neon lights of Tokyo shone down on the empty streets, the usual bustle of the city replaced by a serene quietude.
The convenience store was a few blocks away, and she made the journey swiftly, her mind racing with thoughts of Dan's condition. As she searched the shelves, she found the Lemsip easily enough but had to ask the cashier for chicken soup. Luckily for Bethany she was fluent in Japanse from her years of wrestling here. The cashier looked at her with a mix of confusion and concern, but she managed to convey her urgency and left with both items in hand.
When she returned to the apartment, she found Dan tossing and turning in bed, the sheets twisted around his legs. She could feel the heat radiating from him as she approached, setting the soup and medicine on the bedside table. She carefully unwrapped the chilly cloth from his forehead and replaced it with a fresh one, his skin on fire to the touch. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured, her hand on his shoulder to soothe him. "I've got you."
Dan stirred slightly, his eyes opening just enough to squint at the light from the bedside lamp. "Beth?"
"I'm here, love," she whispered, her hand tightening around his. "I brought you some medicine and soup. It's going to help you feel better."
Dan managed a nod, his eyes fluttering shut again. Bethany could see the effort it took for him to speak. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and congestion.
"You're still feeling hot," she said, placing the back of her hand on his cheek. "Let's get you some of this soup."
With gentle care, she propped him up with extra pillows and handed him the steaming bowl of soup. The aroma filled the room, a comforting scent that seemed to calm him even before he took the first sip. Despite his feverish state, Dan managed a nod of approval. "Thanks, Beth."
Bethany sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he took slow, deliberate spoonfuls. The warmth of the soup seemed to spread through him, easing his tense muscles and bringing a hint of colour back to his cheeks. With each bite, he grew stronger, his eyes clearing slightly. It was a small victory, but one that brought a smile to her face.
"It's not as good as your mum's, but it was the best I could do," Bethany said with a chuckle, taking the now empty soup bowl from his trembling hands. "But hey, it's chicken soup from Japan. Maybe it's got some kind of secret ingredient that'll kick that flu's arse."
Dan managed a weak laugh, his eyes closing again. "Maybe," he murmured, his voice already fading. Within minutes, the warmth of the soup and the medicine began to lull him into a deeper sleep.
Bethany sat back, her hand still resting on his forehead. She couldn't help but worry—his fever had yet to break, and his breathing remained shallow and rapid. The quiet of the room was suddenly pierced by the sound of his phone ringing, the shrill noise echoing through the apartment. She leaned over and grabbed it off the nightstand, glancing at the screen. It was the ringtone she'd set for the leader of the War Dogs, David Finlay.
"Dan's not feeling well," she said into the phone, her voice low so as not to disturb the fragile peace of the room. "Flu or something."
"Ah shit, tell him to suck it up," Finlay's gruff voice came through the line, but she heard the underlying concern. "We've got a match in two days, he needs to be ready."
"Wow I can really feel the compassion from his fearless leader," Bethany said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Look, he's not gonna be fighting if he's still like this."
"I know, I know," Finlay sighed. "But we're all counting on him. Tell him to get some rest and I'll swing by with some supplies tomorrow."
"I've got it covered. Fuck, I'm surprised that out of you and Gabe, it's Gabe that actually has the bedside manor," Bethany quipped, a hint of playfulness in her voice to lighten the tension. Finlay grunted a laugh, and she could almost see the smirk on his face. "Look, you know Dan, if he could he'd battle through it. But he's weak and I'm not risking his health."
"I know, I know," Finlay conceded. "Just keep me updated. And tell him to stop being a pussy."
"I will and you can tell him yourself when he's feeling better," Bethany said with a smirk, ending the call. She set the phone back down and turned her focus back to Dan. Despite the medicine and soup, his condition remained precarious. She knew that the next two days would be crucial in his recovery, and she was determined to do whatever it took to ensure he was back on his feet in time for the match.
With a sigh, she stood and moved the chair closer to the bed, resuming her vigil. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting shadows that danced with every one of Dan's shallow breaths. Her thoughts drifted to their upcoming matches, to their careers, and to the life they'd built together in the chaotic world of professional wrestling. They'd faced so much together—both in and out of the ring—and she wasn't about to let a simple flu get in the way of that.
"Beth," Dan's voice was a raspy whisper that cut through the quiet of the night, jolting her out of her thoughts. "Could you…?"
Bethany leaned in closer, her hand on his forehead. "What is it, baby?"
"Could you…just stay with me?" Dan's eyes searched hers, a rare hint of vulnerability in their depths. "I don't like being alone when I'm like this."
"I'm not going anywhere," she assured him, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. She settled back into the chair, her hand never leaving his forehead. "You just rest. I'll be right here."
"I'm hot," Dan murmured, his forehead burning up.
Bethany nodded, her eyes never leaving his face. She stood up and walked over to the window, pushing it open. The cool night air rushed in, bringing with it the distant sounds of Tokyo's streets—a symphony of sirens and chattering pedestrians. She grabbed the bowl of now lukewarm soup from the bedside table and carried it into the kitchen to dispose of it.
As she returned, Dan was still awake, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his mind racing with feverish thoughts. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands kept flexing and unflexing against the sheets. "Hey," she whispered, her voice as soft as the breeze that had just entered the room. "You need anything else?"
"I'm sorry, love," Dan rasped, "You shouldn't see me like this." His voice was thick with sleep and self-consciousness.
"Like what?" Bethany's voice was gentle, her eyes searching his for any sign of distress. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, taking his hand in hers. It was hot and clammy, but she didn't flinch. "You're just sick, that's all. Nothing to be embarrassed about."
"I'm suppose to be the strong one," Dan said, his voice filled with frustration as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "The one that takes care of you, not the other way around. Not being a vulnerable little pussy."
Bethany couldn't help but chuckle. "You're not a pussy," she assured him, her voice filled with warmth. "You're a fucking lion, Dan. And even lions get sick sometimes." She leaned over and kissed his forehead, her heart aching at his pain. "But good think for you you've got yourself a lioness to look after you."
Dan's eyes closed, his breathing growing steadier as the cool air from the window began to work its magic. Bethany could feel the fever starting to recede, and she took it as a good sign. She knew that the battle was far from over, but she had faith in Dan's strength. He was a fighter through and through.
The next morning Bethany started to stir from her chair, her neck stiff from sleeping in the awkward position. She glanced over at Dan, his breathing had evened out and his forehead felt less feverish. A soft light peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow on his peaceful face. She felt a wave of relief wash over her, but she knew she couldn't let her guard down yet. The flu was a fickle opponent.
As the day progressed, Bethany remained by Dan's side, feeding him sips of water and spoonfuls of soup. His appetite was returning, which she took as a good sign. He slept fitfully, his body fighting the infection that had taken hold. She watched over him with the same intensity she'd bring to the ring, determined to ensure he'd emerge victorious from this unexpected battle.
"Are you still hot, darling?" Bethany whispered, her eyes scanning Dan's face for any signs of distress. His skin had cooled to a more human temperature, and the lines of tension had smoothed from his forehead. He nodded, his eyes still closed, but she could see the hint of a smile.
"Y'na I'm hot," Dan murmured, his eyes still closed.
"Behave yourself," she said with a soft chuckle, placing a cool cloth on his forehead. The chill brought a sigh of relief from his parched lips, and she took that as a victory. "You know that's not the hot I meant."
"I know, love," he mumbled, his eyes opening a crack to peer at her. "But I can't help it. You're always looking after me."
"Someone has to," she replied, her tone teasing despite the seriousness of the situation. "And if it's not going to be you, it's going to be me."
"I love you B. Thanks for taking care of me," Dan's voice was weak but earnest, his eyes finally focusing on her.
Bethany's heart swelled with affection. "Love you too, you stubborn gorilla," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Now get some rest, you need it".
"I'm not tired, but I am hot," Dan mumbled, his eyes searching for hers. The hint of a smile played on his lips, but his voice was still rough from the illness. "Could you…?"
"Could I what?" Bethany leaned in closer, her eyes searching his for any sign of what he needed.
"Could you help me to the bathroom please? A bath or some shit might help cool me down. I don't think I can make it on my own."
Bethany's eyes softened at his pitiful request, and she nodded. "Of course," she said, standing up and helping him out of bed. His legs wobbled slightly, his muscles weakened from the fever and lack of sleep. She wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting his weight as they made their way to the bathroom.
The bathroom was small but functional, with a deep tub that was perfect for soaking in. Bethany helped Dan to the toilet, her strong arms holding him steady as he relieved himself. He was paler than usual, his skin clammy with the remnants of his fever. When he was done, she guided him to the tub and began to fill it with cool water. She knew that a cold bath wasn't recommended for the flu, but the idea of a slightly cooler temperature was to bring down the fever and ease his discomfort.
While the water ran, she rummaged through the cabinets, searching for anything that might help him feel better. She found a bottle of eucalyptus oil, a leftover from one of their many late-night post-match soaks. The scent was potent and invigorating, and she hoped it would help clear his airways.
"Do you need any help taking off your clothes?" she asked, her voice gentle as she turned back to Dan. He nodded, his eyes closed as he leaned against the sink. With careful hands, she helped him remove his sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts, his body trembling slightly from the exertion. His muscles, usually taut and defined, were soft and relaxed, a stark reminder of how illness could strip even the strongest of men.
"Under normal circumstances seeing you naked would be the highlight of my day, but today it just breaks my heart," Bethany said, her voice filled with concern as she helped Dan into the tub. His skin was paler than usual and clammy, a stark contrast to his usual robust self.
"Thanks, love," Dan murmured, his voice a weak rasp as he sank into the water. The coolness of the tub seemed to revive him slightly, and he leaned back with a sigh of relief. Bethany sat on the edge, her hand on his shoulder, watching the water swirl around him with the addition of the eucalyptus oil. The scent filled the air, and she hoped it would help him breathe easier.
The bathroom was small, but it was their sanctuary, a place where they could both let their guards down after the chaos of their wrestling lives. She grabbed a washcloth and dipped it into the water, wringing out the excess before placing it over his forehead. He leaned into it with a soft groan, the heat of his fever seemingly trapped beneath the cool fabric.
"How's that?" she asked, her voice a soft whisper in the quiet bathroom. Dan nodded, his eyes still closed as the cool cloth began to work its magic. She leaned over the tub and kissed him softly on the cheek. "You're going to be fine. Just rest."
"Where are you going?" Dan's eyes fluttered open as he felt the absence of Bethany's hand on his shoulder. She was already halfway out of the bathroom.
"I'm putting your clothes in for washing and grabbing you some fresh ones" she called back over her shoulder. "Stay put, I'll be right back."
The living room was still a mess from the night before, but the apartment was silent except for the sound of the water running in the bathroom. Bethany picked up his dirty clothes and threw them into the laundry basket. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the care she was taking of her man—it wasn't often she got to play the nurturing role, but she had to admit she was good at it.
When she returned with a clean towel and a fresh set of clothes, Dan was attempting to move the cloth from his forehead. His eyes were still half-closed, but he managed a small smile as she approached. "I've got it," he mumbled, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"Let me," Bethany said, gently taking the cloth from his hand and replacing it with a fresh one. She could feel his eyes on her as she worked, the weight of his gaze a comforting presence even in his weakened state.
"You're too good to me," Dan murmured, his eyes drifting shut again as the coolness of the cloth soothed his feverish brow.
"You're worth it," Bethany replied, her voice filled with sincerity. She watched as the water in the tub grew murky with his illness, a symbol of the battle he was fighting. "Just let me know when you want to get out, okay?"
Dan nodded, his eyes still closed, and Bethany took the opportunity to slip out of the bathroom, giving him a moment of privacy. She walked into the living room and took a deep breath, trying to push aside the fatigue that was setting in from the long night. Her phone buzzed on the counter, and she glanced at the screen—it was a message from Gabe.
Bethany: A little better. I got him into a bath with eucalyptus oil. Think it's helping.
Gabe 🤬: Good call on the eucalyptus, B. Keep me updated. Need him back in the ring soon.
Bethany: Will do, Gabe. Thanks for checking in.
Gabe 🤬: No worries. Take care of our boy.
With a determined smile, Bethany set aside her phone and focused on the tasks ahead. She knew that keeping the apartment clean was essential in preventing the spread of the flu. She grabbed a trash bag and began to collect the empty cups and used tissues that littered the floor.
Once the living room was tidy, Bethany returned to the bathroom, finding Dan still submerged in the tub. His breathing was less labored, but she knew that the real test would be when he tried to get out and move around. Carefully, she helped him stand, wrapping a towel around his waist to protect his modesty. His body was leaner than usual, the muscles that once bulged now slightly deflated from his illness.
"Did the bath help?" Bethany asked, her eyes scanning Dan's face for any signs of improvement. He nodded slightly, his body still shaking from the effort of standing. She took the towel from his waist and began to gently dry him off, her movements efficient and gentle. Dan leaned against the sink, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even when you're playing nurse."
Bethany couldn't help but laugh, despite the worry etched on her features. "Flattery won't get you out of bed rest," she said, her hands moving over his shoulders with the towel. "But it's appreciated."
"If I'm a good patient will you wear a nurses outfit?" Dan's voice was still weak, but the mischief in his eyes was unmistakable. Despite herself, Bethany couldn't help but laugh. It was a small victory—his attempt at humor meant he was feeling better.
"I might just have something like that tucked away," she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But only if you promise to behave."
Dan chuckled, the sound rattling in his chest. "Scout's honor."
"You're full of it Moloney. I have it on good authority that you were never a sout," Bethany said with a smirk, her eyes never leaving his reflection in the mirror as she dried his chest. Despite his weakened state, she felt the familiar warmth spread through her body at the sight of him. She'd always found his confidence and bravado incredibly attractive. But now, in his vulnerability, she saw a different kind of strength—one that made her heart swell with love and admiration.
"Okay fine, War Dogs honor," Dan corrected with a smirk, his eyes still closed as the cool air hit his damp skin. "But only if it's a very…specific kind of nurses outfit."
"You're pushing your luck," Bethany said, her voice filled with mock severity. But the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "Now, let's get you dressed and back into bed. You need to rest."
Dan nodded, allowing her to help him into the fresh clothes she'd brought—a tight fitted t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. The fabric felt heavenly against his sensitive skin, and he couldn't help but lean into her touch as she helped him balance. Once dressed, she guided him back to the bed, tucking him in gently. The room was now bathed in the soft light of the late afternoon, and the shadows grew longer as the sun dipped below the horizon.
"Do you want me to track down down some vapour rub?" Bethany asked, her voice filled with concern as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on his shoulder.
Dan's eyes opened slowly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Only if it's the kind that comes with a complimentary lap dance," he murmured, his voice still gravelly but with a touch of his usual cheekiness.
"You're such an animal," Bethany chuckled, her eyes sparkling. Despite the seriousness of the situation, she couldn't help but appreciate the small improvement in his condition. "But maybe later, when you're not so sick."
"I'm holding you to that," Dan murmured, his eyes drifting shut again.
Bethany leaned over and kissed his forehead, feeling the last of the heat from his fever. "Rest now, love," she said softly, her hand stroking his hair. "I'll grab us something to eat. You need to keep your strength up."
"Mm I've got a lap dance to recover for," Dan whispered, a hint of his usual cheekiness returning to his voice, despite his weakened state.
Bethany rolled her eyes with a smile, standing up from the bed. "You're insatiable," she teased, "but food first. I'll grab us something quick."
In the kitchen, she quickly whipped up a simple meal of toast and tea, knowing that Dan's stomach might still be too sensitive for anything more substantial. The apartment was eerily quiet, the only sound the occasional cough from the bedroom and the faint hum of the fridge. She felt a pang of anxiety at his condition, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. She knew he'd be pissed if she let herself get too worried—Drilla Moloney didn't do 'weakness'.
As she carried the tray into the bedroom, she found Dan had rolled onto his side, the blankets tangled around his legs. His breathing was still a little too fast, but the colour was returning to his face. She set the tray on the nightstand and sat down beside him, her hand reaching out to stroke his hair.
"Hey," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "I've got some toast and tea for you. Can you sit up?"
With a grunt, Dan managed to prop himself up on the pillows. The smell of the toast filled the room, mingling with the lingering scent of eucalyptus. It was a comforting aroma that seemed to cut through the heaviness of his sickness. Bethany carefully placed the tray in front of him, her eyes never leaving his face as she watched for any signs of distress.
"You need to look after yourself too Beth," Dan said, his voice still hoarse from the illness. "You can't burn out taking care of me."
"I'm fine," she assured him with a smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But I appreciate the concern." She handed him a slice of toast, watching as he took a tentative bite. The crunch was almost too loud in the quiet room, and she waited with bated breath for his reaction.
Dan's eyes remained closed, savoring the blandness that seemed like a five-star meal to his sensitive palate. After a moment, he swallowed and nodded. "Thanks, it's good."
"See? You're already feeling better," she said, relieved. "Now, drink your tea. It'll soothe your throat."
Dan took a sip, the warm liquid coating his throat with comfort. "It's like you're a doctor or something," he murmured, his eyes still closed.
"Or something," Bethany chuckled, watching him closely. She knew that keeping his fluids up was crucial to his recovery, but she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride at his words.
As Dan sipped his tea, Bethany couldn't help but let her gaze wander over his body. He was so strong, so powerful in the ring, and seeing him like this was a stark reminder of how fragile they all really were. The muscles that usually bulged and flexed with every move now lay relaxed and soft beneath the thin blanket, a testament to the toll the flu had taken on him.
"Do you need anything else darlin'?" Bethany's voice was gentle as she sat beside him, watching him take small bites of toast and sips of tea. "Another blanket maybe?"
Dan's eyes fluttered open, meeting hers with a weak smile. "No, I'm good. Thanks for this. Tastes like heaven after that soup."
Bethany couldn't help but laugh, the tension in the room dissipating slightly. "Well, it's not exactly Gordon Ramsay, but I'll take that as a compliment."
Dan's smile grew a little stronger, and he took another bite of toast, chewing slowly. His eyes followed her as she moved around the room, collecting the empty dishes. "You're doing great," he said, his voice still a little rough. "Better than I ever could."
"Now that's not true," Bethany said, shaking her head as she set the empty tray aside. "You'd make an excellent nurse. Just think of all the times you've looked after me after a match gone wrong."
Dan chuckled, the sound rattling in his chest. "Yeah, but that's different. If it's a match gone wrong I know what to do. This flu shit, I'm out of my depth."
"You're not in it alone," she said firmly, sitting back down beside him. "We're in this together, okay?"
Dan nodded, his eyes drooping as the medication began to take hold. "I know," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. "Thanks for being here."
"You don't have to keep thanking me," Bethany said, her voice filled with tenderness. "That's what we do for each other, remember?"
Dan's eyes fluttered shut, a small nod acknowledging her words. "Yeah," he mumbled. "But it's not just that."
Bethany felt a lump form in her throat, her heart swelling with affection for this man who was so strong, yet so vulnerable before her. She took a deep breath, her hand still resting on his shoulder. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.
"You just…you just make everything better," Dan murmured, his words slurring slightly as the medicine lulled him towards sleep. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Bethany's eyes filled with warmth, her thumb brushing gently against his skin. "You'd be fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm happy you don't have to ever find out."
The room grew quiet again, save for the occasional sip of tea and the rustle of fabric as Dan shifted in the bed. Bethany's gaze drifted to the calendar hanging on the wall, the days marked with upcoming matches and training sessions. The anticipation of the ring was always palpable between them, a shared love that had brought them together. But now, those dates loomed over her, a reminder of the pressure to get Dan well.
"How's your throat feeling?" she asked after a few moments, her hand sliding from his shoulder to cup his cheek. His skin was still a bit warm, but the worst of the fever seemed to have broken.
"Better," he croaked, his eyes opening to look at her. The love in those depths was palpable, and she felt her own eyes well up slightly.
"Good," she said, her voice gentle. "Now, I know you're tired, but you need to keep taking your meds and drinking fluids."
Dan nodded, his eyes drooping once again. "I will," he mumbled.
"Promise?" Bethany pressed, her voice a soft whisper.
Dan nodded again, his eyes already closing. "I promise, love."
Bethany leaned down and kissed him gently on the forehead. "Rest now," she whispered. "I'll be right here if you need anything."
The room was silent for a few moments, the only sound the steady rhythm of Dan's breathing. Bethany remained by his side, her eyes never leaving his face as she made sure he took his medicine and drank the tea. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing minute, and she knew that the battle was far from over. But for now, he was stable, and that was all that mattered.
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