I am a sucker for sickfic, so…that’s my prompt 😂.
"Han."
He hardly stirred, half-convinced the scratchy voice was a dream, the other half not willing to fully acquiesce back to consciousness.
"Han." The strangled voice was more insistent this time, a gentle poke on his shoulder following. He peeled his cheek off the scratchy material of the government-issued med-blanket, back popping with the effort of sitting up fully in the flimsy plastic chair.
Leia blinked at him from the med-bay bed. Her hair had almost completely fallen from the messy attempt at a braid he'd managed when he brought her in, what was it, twelve hours ago? He rubbed at his eyes, checking the chrono on the wall.
Thirteen hours ago.
"Hey." He finally managed with a sleep-laden voice, a tired and sympathetic smile replacing his mildly confused look. He grimaced as he sat fully up, a twinge of pain in his shoulders from sleeping hunched over for however long. His hand found hers amongst the tubes and layers of covers, her's colder than he would have liked. He made a mental note to tell the nurse. "How're you feelin'?"
Leia was still looking around the small room, eyebrows pulled together before a fit of coughing descended over her. It shook her entire body, the rattling sound echoing around them, bringing his brimming worry over the surface. Worry had been living in his chest for the last day and a half, watching whatever virus this was slowly suck more and more energy from her. It had peaked when he'd come home from a short training exercise earlier that day, one she'd demanded he still attend, despite her condition, and found her feverish and near unresponsive in their bed.
Han reached for the glass of water he'd had prepped for her since she'd fallen asleep, hours before. Carefully he untangled their hands and set the cup in hers, wrapping her fingers around the tepid glass and helping lift it to her lips.
Leia drank greedily, enough that he had to pull back and give her a few breaks to breathe before she drained the entire glass. He set it back on the table, his hand going back to hers, careful of the IV drip that was anchored there.
"What happened?" She asked, her voice sounding a touch smoother, though still strained. Her eyes were still rimmed in red and squinty, her skin a shade paler than usual without it's usual rosy color underneath. Worry curdled into concern, pushing his chair closer to the edge of her bed.
"You wouldn't wake up when I got home." He explained, finding his vision had gone blurry and he was unable to keep looking at her. A burn started to build in the back of his throat, remembering the terror of trying to shake her awake, the groan and hot feeling of her skin under his hands. "Your fever spiked to a hundred and four." His voice was near a whisper now, his fingertips still stroking her knuckles, gaze firmly set on the weave of the scratchy blanket.
She squeezed his hand, gently, the strength he'd come to know in her absent. It made that feeling in his gut twist into something painful.
"I was feeling better..." She muttered, his gaze lifting to find hers still wandering around the room, brows pulled together as she fought through the haze in her mind. "I thought I was getting better."
"Doc says that's typical — you feel better before you get worse." The virus had run through the city faster than it should have, given how densely populated Coruscant was. Nearly an eighth of it's citizens had been affected, luckily most were minor cases.
But some weren't.
Mon had come down with the sickness earlier this week, a mild case. Leia must have caught it from her, as he wasn't aware of anyone else in the Senate currently quarantined.
"You got fluids and fever reducers." He listed, trying to recall exactly what the doctors had told him after they'd brought him back in, but in truth he hadn't focused on anything past 'she'll be okay.' "Gotta stay overnight, but they'll check and see if we can go home in the mornin'."
It was already, technically, morning. They still had a few hours to go until the doctor came back in.
"You stayed?" She asked the question innocently, her nose still wrinkled in perplexity, which knocked away the clear tubing resting at her nostrils, providing oxygen. He reached up and fixed it with gentle fingers, unable to resist brushing his hands over her cheek, grateful to feel that warmth had returned to normal.
"Of course I stayed." It was said gently, though there was an undercurrent of disbelief. He tried to ignore the jab to his heart those words caused, that she would truly think he'd just... leave her here. In a place he knew she hated, sick and surrounded by strangers. "I'll always stay."
"You could get sick —" She started, lifting her hand to run it through his hair, doing the opposite of pushing him away. He closed his eyes, relishing in her touch, her nails scraping over his scalp, the soft pressure of her fingertips as her hand fell to his shoulder.
"We share a bed, Sweetheart." He murmured, a pained smile lifting his lips, if just to try and see it reflected on her. "If this was gonna get me, it would have by now."
She seemed to contemplate that, her lips pressed together like they always did when she was thinking, the cogs in her brain running faster on empty than his probably did on a good day. He fought the urge to press his thumb between her eyes, easing the strain and tension he saw building there.
Her hand fell from his shoulder, and he jumped up when she shifted her entire body to the right, the bed squeaking with movement.
"Hey, hey, hey —" He held his hands out as if to stop her, but didn't dare, especially after a sharp glance he was surprised she was capable of in this state. He checked, but all the wires and tubes seemed to still be attached and doing their jobs, at least, none of the monitors that surrounded them changed their monotonous beeping.
She patted the empty space next to her, her small body not even taking up half the size of the thin mattress she laid on, now shoved to one side against the safety railing.
"Not uh." He shook his head, glancing at the door for a nurse. Hell, he'd even take a med-droid at this point. Someone should check on her if she was awake, right? Should he notify someone, go tell the front desk? Surely if he just stuck his head out the door and yelled someone would come running. What if she woke up because the fever was back or the medicine had stopped working —
"I'm cold." She complained, blankets tugged up to her chin for emphasis.
"I'll go ask for more —"
"Han." Her voice was commanding, enough so that it sparked a bit of hope back to life in his chest, the feeling light and fluttering against the concern and despair that had been weighing him down since they came in. "Don't make a sick woman beg, it's cruel." She used his words from nearly a year ago, what he'd said to her when fighting hibernation sickness aboard the Falcon, only hours after the destruction of Jabba's palace.
It brought a tentative lift to his lips, searching her face for any further sign of discomfort. He didn't find any, but it didn't ease the burrowed fear.
For the briefest moment, Han warred with the thought. Mostly, he didn't want to interrupt her rest, or somehow lay on a tube and fuck up whatever it was that was making her feel better. But, selfishly, he wanted to be close to her, and it sounded a whole lot better than sleeping bent over in that chair again. There was the slight concern in the back of his head of someone official walking in and pitching a fit, waking Leia, but the bigger concern was the current look on her face.
Annoyed, waiting for him to come to the same conclusion she'd already made. He sighed, clearly having lost this particular argument.
"Fine. Only because you're sick and pitiful." He said, finger pointed at her with his attempt at a joke, kicking off his boots and shedding his jacket.
"Pitiful?" She questioned, eyes narrowing, though the glint of amusement there lightened something in him.
"Utterly pitiful. Wretched. Miserable." He crawled up onto the bed as gently as he could, the structure creaking under his weight. He carefully settled next to her, taking his time and moving the various long lengths of medical equipment out of the way. The moment he laid his head back, cautious to ensure she maintained most of the single, flat pillow, Leia turned and nuzzled into his side. Her head rested on his shoulder, once again knocking the oxygen tube out of her nose, which reached up and fixed it again, ensuring the tubes were fit snugly over her ears to keep them in place, earning a hum of approval.
"Less miserable when you're here." She mumbled, her words starting to string together as sleep closed in once more, likely the affect of whatever was running through that IV line. Han cautiously wrapped his arm around her, cushioning her back from the cold metal safety railing, grateful to feel her press in closer with a deep sigh.
Softly, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his own eyes feeling heavy with relief and something else. Words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't have to say it, the sentiment was there.
He'd always be here.
