OH OH UHMMMMM WHATCHA THINK ABOUT A LITTLE DRABBLE OF TORD TAKING CARE OF SICK READER?? I’m sick and I’m in HORRIBLE misery :(
Sorry this took a while to get to anon, I hope you felt better not long after you sent this ask! Enjoy the sick fic fluff:)
Sick Fic(Tord x Reader Fluff)
Tord looked down at his watch, noticing the way it showed just past 10 in the morning. He had let you sleep in, knowing you had a late night yesterday despite your shared texts last night of you promising you’d be ready for him to be over no later than 9am. Now he was at your door, having knocked once and not hearing a peep. He squinted at the door like it was going to open for him.
“Where…” He muttered, deciding to take matters into his own hands and seek you out from your bedroom window. Wasn’t the first time he did this. He had gotten an earful from you the last time he did it though. He smirked, you were cute when you were flustered. Especially if he was the one to make you flustered.
But before he could step from the porch, the door opened. His mouth parted to greet you in that playfully annoying way he always did before the words were dying in his throat at the sight of you.
Your shirt was rucked up slightly, showing a peek of the soft skin of your stomach, pajama pants barely covering mismatched socks. His gray eyes snapped back to your face, hearing the way you sniffled and instantly noticed the pink of your nose and the fatigue apparent in your features. It looked like you hadn’t slept a wink despite your sleep-rumpled appearance.
“So you’re sick." He stated more than asked, earning an eye roll from you.
“Yeah, sorry, I meant to message you earlier that you shouldn’t come over, but I fell back asleep before I could.” You murmured, voice sounding scratchy as hell. Near a croak. He frowned. Stepping forward easily, he laid the back of his hand against your forehead, clicking his tongue in disapproval at the temperature he was met with.
“Can’t you do anything right.” He scoffed quietly, moving through your doorway before you could respond. “I’m staying here with you. You clearly can't take care of yourself in this state.”
“I-” You began, feeling like you should defend yourself.
“No, you’re getting back into bed while I make you something to eat and get you medicine.” He turned back to you, noticing the way you hadn't moved from the door. “You haven’t eaten yet have you?” You shrunk back sheepishly. He tisked.
“Klovn, get back to bed.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he heard you scuffle in place. He opened his eyes, seeing the way you held yourself when you were self conscious. His gaze softened slightly.
You blinked as he approached you in that calm way of his, eyes searching your tired ones. You felt awful honestly. You woke up to a dry scratchy throat, an irritated stuffy nose, and your skin felt as though it was too tight for your bones. Awful. And he could see it in the way you watched him blearily. His hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb drawing soothing circles over your heated skin.
“My søt, you need to rest in order to feel better.” He leaned in softly, lips meeting your forehead. He pulled back with a frown, not liking the fever that wracked your body. “Let me take care of you.” He murmured, looking at the way you blinked slowly. It looked like you were about to cry. He tucked you into his arms, pressing your head lightly into his shoulder as you sank into his embrace with a sniffle. It was a few moments of the two of you standing there before he was humming at your little nod and ‘thank you’ you laid against his neck. “Go. Bed.” He ordered, pushing you away lightly.
You sniffled, this time from your stuffy nose.
“Okay.” You said weakly, turning back to head down the hallway to your bedroom. “Don’t burn the kitchen down.” You heard the way he grumbled loudly at your retreating back as you grinned to yourself.
You blinked awake at the light prodding to your arm over the covers, turning with a grumble as you saw Tord looking down at you the way a cat greets you in the mornings.
“I need you to try eating something before you sleep more, kjære.” He said softly, voice tender in a way you hadn’t heard from him in a while. The first time was when he uttered the three words that made you melt after your first real fight. His gaze was as honest as he’d ever been, the look made you feel something you had carefully tucked into your ribs for later.
You pouted, tucking your chin into the blanket as you tugged it up with a hand. He huffed, amused.
“Come on.” He coaxed you with a kiss to your forehead, helping you sit up as you stared at the bowl with a small bit of soup. Your eyebrows raised, looking back up at him as he sat next to you. You knew you didn’t have any canned chicken soups lying around, having run out of them last week from a couple weeks of late nights at work.
“What?” Tord squinted at you as if offended. “You know I can cook sometimes.” Making you smile at his tone. He pushed the bowl into your hands, arms crossing over his chest in wait as you brought the spoon to your lips. Though you barely could smell it through your stuffy nose, you favored the warmth the porcelain seeped into your fingers. He watched in patient silence as you nearly finished the small portion before you were handing the bowl back to him. Only a small bit of the soup left. “Thank you.” You whispered, closing your eyes as the warmth of the soup eased your throat some.
“No sleeping yet, nydelig.” He murmured, shifting to turn to the table at your bedside, picking up the medicine you had stashed away behind your bathroom sink cabinet. “This should help you feel better too. Disgusting, but you have to take it.” He saw the way you grimaced as he handed you the bottle, taking the cap off for you and the dose cup it came with. You blinked as you watched him pour the medicine for you, the amber liquid looking unappealing.
“Down the hatch.” He said, raising his brows at your hesitance. “You were practically shoving this down my throat when I was sick, don’t make me do that to you.” He huffed, earning a whine.
“Fine.” You grumbled, tipping your head back to swallow the medicine quickly. You gagged at the taste, shaking your head as he chuckled. You knocked his arm with yours, handing the bottle and cap to him.
“There we go.” He said, kissing the back of your hand before he got up to take the bowl and medicine back to the kitchen and bathroom respectively. You watched him go, head still feeling muddy with tiredness as you laid back down. You turned, laying on your side now as you fiddled with the loose thread of the pillow case. His footsteps padded down the hallway to your room again, door closing slightly behind him until there was only a crack of light between the sunlight of the hallway and the dimness of your room. The Norwegian moved to the other side of the bed, mattress big enough for the two of you to sleep comfortably together. You looked at him in surprise again.
“You’ll get sick.” You whispered, watching the way he shrugged noncommittally. He took his phone out before moving under the blanket with you.
“I’ll be fine, go back to sleep. You’ll feel better.” He said, squinting down at the screen before scrolling up. You sighed, tucking a cough into the blanket around your fist. He looked at you then, eyes roving over your face. He turned to face you, fingers tucking hair away from your face.
“Sleep.” He whispered, caressing your cheek as your eyes fluttered shut.
“Thank you.” You whispered again, tucking your chin back under the sheets.
“Don’t thank me for this.” Was all you heard before you drifted to sleep.
