Temperature Checks: Supercorp Medfet/CGLG-ish Sneak Peek
(Lena x Reader) Reader is sick and hides it from Lena. When Lena finds out she punishes Reader with babying, tough love, and a thermometer where she knows it is most accurate and embarrassing. (Doctor Lena/MDLG-ish/Slight Dub-Con.)
***
On Sunday, the sniffles start with a runny nose and sore chest that can’t seem to decide whether it’s coming or going. One moment you can breathe, the next it’s too stuffy.
It’s the kind of cold that can be put down to hayfever or allergies for now; an inconvenience more than actually feeling under the weather. Or, at least not yet feeling too unwell to justify calling in sick to work despite your wife, Lena, suggesting that if only this once, you should really just stay in bed and rest.
It’s not often you’re sick. In fact, three years of marriage and it’s the first spell on record. Lena doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself over the next twenty-four hours. She’s helpful—or at least she tries to be.
Monday morning comes after a terrible night’s sleep, there is hot lemon tea with extra honey in a flask waiting for you on the kitchen counter. There is some medicine for your head cold too, and when you potter around to start making two lunches ready for work—one for you, one for her—Lena appears with a concerned look on her face.
“Baby I already made you something to take to work.” Lena presents you with a microwave lunch bowl that, through the clear plastic lid, you can see is more liquid than tangible meal. “Soup noodles, bone broth, I made it a little spicier than you normally like to help get your chest and nose clear.” She briefly presses the back of her hand to your forehead, then her expression furrows. “Your temperature feels up baby—”
“I’m fine,” You promise, pushing a very forced smile at the worrier, because you are not feeling fine at all and the headache is starting to compound itself. “I promise, if I start to feel too unwell I will come home from work.”
“Baby girl, you will have to forgive me, but I cannot help but find that very hard to believe.” Her dark eyebrows lift at you with a genuine sense of amusement at the statement—and yet she doesn’t laugh in the slightest. “You’re already burning a fever and your poor chest too! You were awake all night tossing and turning, it sounded like you could hardly breathe.”
“I promise, it’s just allergies.”
“Name one thing you are allergic to?”
“Okay, fine, then it is just a little bit of a cold?” You change your answer as though it might appease Lena.
Lena fixes a worried expression. She lifts her brow, sighing and well aware there is no arguing with you. Her hands find your cheeks, so gentle and loving, and her emerald eyes fall on you with a look so expressive there can be no denying you are the closest thing to her tender heart.
“I’m going to call you at lunchtime,” she says, “If you don’t sound good then I’m booking a doctor’s appointment. Your chest sounded awful last night.”
“Alright, okay,” You concede and slip your hands over the fingers on your jaw while her lips peck the outskirts of your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your smile. “But don’t worry, it’s probably nothing.”
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