Only one trooper this time, but I wanted to post it for Wolffe Moon.
Pairing:Wolffe x GN! Reader
Warnings: Illness and what comes with it
Word Count: 585
Dividers made by me, if you use please reblog!
Wolffe had been at it for a couple of hours, and from your spot next to him you could tell he wasn’t making the progress he usually would be making. The hacking cough and splitting headache probably was impeding his progress through the already mind numbing reports.
Since he had propped himself up at the time he usually got up and started working on reports, dispite the illness, you had wrapped your arm around his legs and pressed your face to his hip.
After a particularly rough coughing fit on your part he stroked your head with one hand. “You okay, Sweetheart?”
It was almost unfair how he still sounded amazing, his sore throat just roughening and lowering his voice. Glancing up to see his red rimmed eyes and the curls that are usually neatly styled hanging onto his forehead and fluffing out at the sides.
You nod against his hip. Your voice in response sounds scratchy and weak. “You should be resting”
“I’ll rest when I finish these…” he’s interrupted by a sneeze that triggers a coughing fit that almost has him gasping.
“They absolutely can’t wait?” You ask, suspiciously.
“They absolutely can not” he grumbles, setting the datapad down to rub his face.
“Bet they can,” you answer, muffled somewhat by his sweatpants.
“Alright, who else is going to do them?” He asks, scrubbing his hand through his hair.
“Sinker,” you answer simply. Knowing Sinker was more than capable.
“You really think he can navigate through all these military regulations on his own?” Wolffe laughs.
“Yes, he knows them as well as you do,” as you shift even closer to him.
“Sinker is a good trooper, but he’s not exactly a paper pusher,” he answers.
“Neither are you!” You half laugh.
“I’m a commander, it’s in my job description.” He grumbles as he reaches to pull the covers closer around your shoulders.
“Fine,” and you turn over reaching for your com with a cough.
“Really? Who are you calling?” He asks.
“I’m going over your head, Commander,” you say, starting to make the call.
“What? You’re going to rattle to the General?” He asks, reaching for your com.
“Yes, I am,” you tell him.
Wolffe groans, “he’s going to side with you isn’t he?”
“He’s all but officially adopted you and the pack as his own children. Do you seriously think he expects those reports any time soon?” You challenge. “He knows how sick you are. He sent you home himself.”
Wolffe sighs in defeat, “probably not, no,”
“Then rest, so I don’t have to call your Buir on you and you can go back to your work sooner,” you tell him.
He lays down, rolling over to bury his face in your shoulder, “Fine” As you stroke the back of his head he grumbles, nuzzle into your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist.
“My big, bad, grumpy Wolffe,” with a laugh that turns into a cough. Your hand still stroking the unschooled curls.
Wolffe huffs, then gently nips your neck in retribution.
“Bitey too,” you laugh softly.
He nips you again, in retaliation for the comment, making you laugh again.
“Come on my love. The reports will keep. Get some rest. Between both of us coughing you didn’t sleep hardly at all last night.” You say, still stroking his head.
Wolff hims against your shoulder, before yawning. He nuzzles into your neck further, tugging her close. After a few moments, his breathing slows, and he falls asleep in your arms.
Thanks for reading! ☀️Love & Wrecker Hugs☀️
