Johnny is part of the man cold society™ and no one can convince me of the contrary, so here’s some clingy and soft!johnny who caught a cold. (probably as consequence of a dumb bet with Gaz or something)
Think about it, Johnny laying in bed, constantly moving and adjusting because his body aches from the low fever he has. He constantly sniffs and clears his throat, his nose stuffy and clogged and his throat sore and itchy. You know he must be really uncomfortable, you really do. Knowing that he had struggled to sleep the night before, coughing fits constantly waking both of you.
But you can’t help yourself when you let out a little laugh as you sit on the edge of bed beside him, feeling his forehead to check his temperature. He gives you a nasty look, “ugh, i hate this.” he complains, trying to adjust once more.
- - - - -
You smile amusedly, running your fingers through his mohawk, pushing it back so it won’t stick to his clammy forehead. “You turn into such a baby.” you joke, receiving yet another side eye. You giggle and lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, which is enough for him to soften a bit. “Here, this’ll help.” You say, handing him the little cup with the medicine in it, you were honestly glad you weren’t sick too, because that thing was disgusting.
“Bonnie, no.” he grumbles, covering his face with a pillow, hiding from the tiny cup. It’s another minute of his dramatics before he sighs and pushes the pillow to the side, grabbing the medicine and throwing it back as if it were a tequila shot. He makes a grimace and shudders as he gulps it down. “That tastes horrible.” he complains as he leans back against the pillows.
You chuckle, “It’s supposed to taste bad so babies don’t chug it down or something like that.” You take the small cup from him and leave it on the bedside table, handing him water to wash off the flavour.
“Yeah, no wonder they won’t.” He grumbles, drinking about half of the cup before giving it back. He twists and turns again, burying his head in the mountain of pillows he has accumulated. He looks at you for a moment before a small grin appears, “Give me a kiss to make it better.” he says, puckering his lips.
You roll your eyes but lean in anyway, pressing a soft peck to his lips. “Nuh-uh,” you say before he complains, “that’s all you get. I don’t want to be sick.”
He sighs, burying his head on the pillows again. “Is it illegal to be clingy?” He asks indignantly, “Because I dinnae think so. I'm sick, I need kisses. And attention.” he keeps on grumbling. It just makes you chuckle again, more so because he’s had a hand resting on your leg this whole time.
“You’re always clingy, darling.” You tease with a smile, another laugh leaving you as he huffs and puffs indignantly, having to fight with his pile of pillows to turn and look at you.
“I need yer touch, bonnie. I dinnae ken how long I have left.” he justifies, sitting up a bit to wrap his arms around you and pull you down on the bed with him, causing you to yelp. In just a second he’s laying with his head on your chest, arms around your waist and legs tangled with yours. He lets out a small sigh, absolutely pleased with himself.
You let out a soft laugh, wrapping your arms around him, one hand moving to play with his hair. “Love, you’ve got the flu, you’re not on your deathbed. You’ve been through worse” you say bemused.
“Ye never ken, lass.” He murmurs, snuggling closer until his body is completely flush against you, “jus’ hold me. Need it” And you let out a little amused snort but still comply, holding him even when he falls asleep as you run your fingers up and down his back, drawing random shapes. A small smile forming on your lips when he finally gets some much needed rest.
