joey taking care of sick!reader? he’d be so gentle and caring
ok, so, i'll give you gentle and caring, but ive added a little bit of frustration and annoyance for extra flavour <3 hope thats ok!
Wordcount: 1.9K
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Snugly, Softly, Sleepy
It was cold.
“I’m so done with you,” Joe scolded, his soft gentle touch a stark contrast from the annoyance in his tone.
So cold.
“You never just tell me things, do you? I’m always finding out when it’s already too late, when it’s gone too far and you’re knee deep in shit we could have easily prevented.”
We.
Like Joe had any power over the flu sneaking into your system.
“Couldn’t have just said you weren’t feeling the best before we went out, for fuck’s sake, and look– 39.2, oh my God,” he genuinely sounded pissed off.
Because he was.
A lethal mixture of guilt, exhaustion, frustration and, if he was honest, a little bit of fear. One day he was going to wake up and you’d be half dead, just because you succeeded in lying to yourself and everyone else about how you really felt.
“For fuck’s sake, babe. 39.2 is not normal.”
It didn’t help that it had just gone 3 AM, and that he’d rather be asleep. He had been, for a little while, until he woke up from a chill and realised you’d stolen all of the covers.
“Darling,” he’d whispered then, giving the duvet a slight tug which immediately and all too easily pulled you into consciousness.
“Mm?”
You had been in a weird half awake half asleep state, sort of restless. Tired enough to let yourself doze, yet unable to get comfortable enough to really fall asleep properly. You somehow felt too hot and too cold at the same time, face burning, but body shivering.
When you croaked a soft, “Sorry,” as you rolled over, Joe got a glimpse of the sheen of your skin, how some of your hair stuck to your forehead, and the deep blush of your cheeks.
“Hey,” Joe spoke softly, but said it urgently enough for you to open your eyes. “Sleepy girl. Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just cold.” You’d murmured then, scooting closer to Joe as the duvet unraveled around you.
A hesitant hand moved across, landing at your waist, immediately aware of how hot you felt. And how clammy.
“Babe, no,” Joe said a little louder this time as he sat up in bed. “You’re sweating, you’re,” he felt your forehead. “You’re burning up.”
You replied with mumbled nonsense, searching out Joe’s body heat after exiting the damp cocoon you’d created, now only more aware of how cold the air of the room was. You didn’t get a chance to find it though.
What followed next was the lights turning on, covers being thrown back, soft gruntled swearing and brows furrowing deeply as the flinch and shiver of your full body reaction left an awful feeling in Joe’s chest. The reveal of a drenched bed, of wet fabric that stuck to your chest, made Joe swipe a hand down his face.
“Of course you feel cold. All right, c’mon. Up.”
Your body had never felt heavier, every muscle tense and aching. Joe had to put real work into getting you to sit up in bed, which was difficult with eyes that didn’t want to adjust to the bright light all that willingly.
“My God, did you get food poisoning? How did this come about so quickly?” Joe pulled at your top, wet with sweat, and with eyes closed and your head flopping every which way, you let the boy undress you. “Do you feel nauseous?”
“N-no, just– …”
Joe thought you were going to say cold again, which made sense but felt so weird in contrast to the flaming heat that was radiating from your skin.
“Thirsty.” You then finished, sagging to the side a little, so ready to curl back into bed and to let sleep pull at you.
“Wait, wait. Careful. Left hand,” Joe guided you into dry clothes, unimpressed at how difficult you were making it for him. “No, the other left. Left– oh my God.” You weren’t exactly helping, limbs weak and heavy with sleep.
When the soft cotton of one of his jumpers got pulled down your frame, you instantly felt a little better.
A rough hand pushed hair from your forehead, and Joe’s cold hand felt so nice against your skin, you whined as you reached up, grabbing his wrist to keep it in place.
“That feel nice?”
“Yea,” you sighed, moving his hand across your face wherever you needed some cool relief, humming when gave you his other hand as well. It gave Joe the chance to glance a look behind you, at the wet rumpled sheets that were going to need a change.
Joe was tired and slightly annoyed, because there was not a chance that this had just come about after you’d gone to sleep which was just so typical. If it hadn’t been the middle of the night, he’d have pushed you into a hot shower. Couldn’t do that now; you were practically falling back asleep as your teeth chattered whilst you relished under Joe’s cool hands, pressed against your cheeks.
“Thirsty girl. Okay. Let’s go check how bad this is.”
“Noo,” you softly whined, eyes still closed, body so very ready to just flop back down onto the mattress.
“None of that,” Joe said sternly, kindness lining his words as he pulled you up to your feet. “Bedding needs a change, and you need some, I don’t know, ibuprofen, for one…”
You let yourself be lead over into the kitchen in the dark and parked yourself against the counter, leaning into the surface as much as you could. With your eyes closed, maybe you could just fall asleep right here, even if it was cold – you could sort of drift like you’d been doing before…
“Water.” Joe grumbled, pulling you from your daze as he handed you a full glass.
You had a few sips of luke warm water with your eyes closed.
The biggest chill came from the nape of your neck; your hair there soaked with sweat, and pulling your shoulders up only helped so much.
“Tablet.” An ibuprofen got pushed into your palm.
Then, you heard the kettle turn on and you smiled to yourself. A nice warm mug of tea was so very welcome, even just the idea of it made you go a little more lax.
“Can you– careful!”
You nearly dropped the glass you were holding.
“Oh, sor–”
Before you had even finished the sentence, Joe’d removed the glass from your hand and with two arms curling around your thighs, he lifted you onto the counter.
A frowning face made you a cup of tea, a swearing voice checked your temperature, and a worried set of hands took hold of your head before Joe softly said, “What am I going to do with you, hey? Poorly girl.”
39.2 degrees.
Joe couldn’t not be worried at your half-opened unfocused eyes that he couldn’t really seem to make contact with.
Joe whispered your name, and it almost sounded like a cry for help.
“Mm? Take me back to bed…” you softly murmured in answer to his question as you let your head be fully supported by Joe’s hands. “Please.”
“Bed’s soaked, baby.”
He wasn’t going to lay you back down in the puddle you’d left behind.
“Oh. Sorry...”
Joe didn’t need you to be sorry. He needed you dry and warm and comfortable.
Just a minute ago he had every intention to leave you in the kitchen for a second to go change the sheets, but stood in between your legs with your 39.2-degree-fever-face in his hands, he couldn’t find it in himself to leave you on your own.
“We’ll sleep on the sofa. Gotta tell me next time you don’t feel okay. Can’t ever do this again.”
He rested the back of his hand against your forehead once again, checking to feel what 39.2 degrees really felt like before ducking his head a little to look at you, gazes meeting. Even in the low light, Joe’s big eyes shone with worry.
“You hear me? Fucking tell me when you have a chill, all right? When you start feeling achy and sick.”
You nodded sluggishly, mind moving slow, every thought a little foggy.
“I promise I’ll tell you immediately next time, doctor.” you tried to make light of it, but you felt how you were rejecting the idea already. You were known to need help from time to time, but known even more for not accepting a single fucking inch of it. Joe was probably joking anyway, it was hard to tell with him sometimes, he’d keep a straight face for too long and the joke would pass and he’d forget to smile.
You got an unimpressed look in return whilst two arms swung a throw blanket around your back and then two big hands furiously rubbed over your upper arms.
“You’re close to your fever being dangerous, you know. This isn’t funny, okay?”
You rarely got sick anyway, there was no need for Joe to worry so much.
“Okay?”
But he was persistent, and all you could really do, was comply.
The smile slipped from your face before you softly said, “Yea, ‘kay”
You were practically boneless as Joe helped you down from the counter and onto sofa. The furthest he strayed away from you was about four steps when he went to grab two of the other throw blankets you kept in a basket near the sofa.
You got tucked in as well as you could be tucked in on the sofa before Joe joined you, curled up in the corner right next to you.
In a dry jumper, with two blankets wrapped around you, and a hot tea in your body, you should have felt toasty beyond what was even really comfortable. Yet, when Joe snuggled up next to you, covered by his own throw blanket, he could feel you shake through all of the fabric still.
It just made him cuddle up tighter.
Made him rub your arms, and pull you closer.
Joe nuzzled your nose with his own, and made you hum softly.
“Still cold, chilly girl?”
“Mm,” you replied, too tired to speak, your tone telling him absolutely nothing.
It felt safer to presume that you were still cold, which left Joe to rearrange his limbs over your body, scooting up enough to press your head into the crook of his neck.
He was going to hug this fever right out of you, you just watch.
He’d fix the bed tomorrow.
He’d help you shower in the morning.
He’d make sure you were going to get all the fluids and nutrients your body craved.
But right now, he’d see that you got the rest you needed.
And it was easy to fall asleep in Joe’s arms as they wrapped around you firmly. One of his legs slung over both of yours, and one of his hands made sure your head stayed in place exactly where he wanted it.
“Better?” Joe wasn’t expecting an answer, so he couldn’t help his little smile when he got a really faint, “Mm.” in reply.
“Sleep, cosy girl.” were the last words you heard Joe whisper, followed by a soft kiss pressed into your hair, before you let sleep take you.
Luke 2:7 (NLT) -
She gave birth to her firstborn Son. She wrapped Him snugly in strips of cloth and laid Him in a manger, because there was no lodging available for them.
