At Your Own Risk
A little quickie Warrtime sickfic suggested by a new anon, nothing explicit to be had here. I had some time this afternoon so I decided to just bang it out quick.
1300 words, not long enough to post as a chapter imo. Under the cut for length.
It was a rare morning these days that Time should wake up in bed alone. Often he woke with a body plastered right against him, as was Wild’s habit, but not every bed-partner of his was a cuddler. Time turned and sighed and stretched his arm out as he woke, reaching and searching until he met nothing but the far end of the bed.
Sitting up, Time saw that the other end of the bed was undisturbed, the pillows untouched and the sheets pulled askew only by his own movement in the night.
Odd.
As he descended the stairs to get ready for his morning run, Time didn’t surreptitiously glance down the second floor hallway. He definitely didn’t take stock of which of the boys’ doors were open or closed, and he certainly didn’t make special note that Warriors’s was among those still shut. He didn’t glance at it again on his way back up the stairs a bit later, nor did he descend from the third floor after his shower to find that now Warriors’s was the only door unopened.
“Good morning, Sir!”
“Hello, Wild.” Time held out one arm to welcome Wild’s morning hug. He continued to pour his coffee with the other hand. “Are we missing someone this morning?”
“Oh, Wars is sick.” Wild took an extra moment to squeeze Time firmly about his waist before letting go. “He was complaining about a headache yesterday and was up sneezing all night.”
Time hummed a note of concern, watching as Wild returned to the stove and took up a spatula. “Has he been down for breakfast yet?”
“N’ah, he’s real weird about being sick.” One, two, three, four pancakes were flipped faster than Time’s eye could track. “He holes up in his room usually and does nothing but sleep. He only comes out if he has to, and he yells if we knock… Hey, order up!”
From the living room came the grunt of one of the boys getting up from the couch. Time stood frowning with arms half-folded as he took his first swig of coffee. Wild watched him but said nothing, stacking four perfectly-browned pancakes onto Legend’s waiting plate. When Time turned toward the cabinet above the coffee station, Wild tilted his head.
“Do you know how he takes his tea, Wild?”
Wild positively brightened. “Yeah I do!!”
Across the kitchen island, Legend rolled his eyes.
Several minutes and one unnecessary pep-talk from Wild later, Time crept up the stairs with all the stealth he had in him. One of the boys was playing music on their phone while they showered, but otherwise the second floor was dead silent. Warriors’s door was still shut.
“Make sure you knock,” Wild had warned him.
Time lifted his hand to the door and announced his presence with three soft taps.
“If he yells, it’s probably safer to try again later. If he doesn’t, you can give it a shot!”
From behind the door came a muffled, “Please, just leave me to die.”
“Even if he doesn’t yell, though, he might throw things if you try to come in, so just be careful.”
Pushing forward, Time laid his hand on the doorknob. “I’m coming in,” he announced.
Warriors’s bedroom was as small as all the others. He kept his bed pushed up against the wall and his bureau at the foot of it. Next to the bureau was a desk that doubled as his vanity, and the curtains had been drawn over the window above it. Immediately near the door was a rack for hangable clothing—Warriors complained frequently about the lack of closet space on the second floor—and Time had to step past it in order to view the bed.
Rustling about beneath the covers like a crocodile surfacing in a swamp, Warriors glared out from beneath a mountain of blankets. The warning in his eyes was somewhat softened by his pathetic state. His nose and eyes were red, his congestion audible. A satin eye pillow Time had never seen before was pushed up over his forehead. Used tissues littered the floor and the table next to the bed, one or two of them forgotten atop the comforter.
“Your tea,” Time announced, lowering the little silver tray he carried to demonstrate his offering, his litmus test.
Warriors’s eyes narrowed as he lifted the covers to hide the lower half of his face. Although he might be incapacitated by his cold, nothing would defang him. “Is there milk?”
“In the carafe. It’s still got a chill,” Time admitted, “but it’s fresh.”
“Sugar?”
“Two cubes. I brought extra,” there was the barest hint of pity in Time’s eye, “I wasn’t sure how well you can taste.”
Under normal circumstances, Warriors might have snarled something crude in reply. But something caught in his throat as he inhaled, sending him into a coughing fit. While he was distracted Time took the opportunity to approach, brushing some tissues off the corner of the bedside table so he could set down the tray.
Once his cough had settled, Warriors flopped back onto his pillows. He looked miserable. “You shouldn’t be in here. I’m sure I’m contagious.”
“I’ll have to take my chances.” Time turned the handle of the teacup in the direction of the bed before taking a step back. “I can’t have you dying in my house, Warriors, I can’t afford yet another investigation.”
“Of course,” Warriors rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to sit up, allowing the blankets to fall in disarray around him. “I’ll try to not inconvenience you any more than I already have.”
On those nights spent on the third floor, Warriors typically slept in matching pajama sets, things made from soft fabrics and with delicate buttons. In the privacy of his own room, though, the dress code was more loose. Time thought it was a bit funny to see him in a t-shirt and cotton sleep pants. It was hard to recall a time when he’d seen Warriors dressed so casual.
Once his tea was sufficiently doctored Warriors took a discerning sip. He glanced up at Time as he did, but the old man was smart enough to be looking away by that point. Hm, the tea was fine. “Why are you still standing here?” Wars snapped before taking his next sip.
“To make sure that your tea meets your standards,” Time replied patiently, “and to see if you have any requests for lunch before I go searching for cans of soup.”
Warriors visibly winced at that, setting his teacup back on the tray. “Goddess above, not canned soup. Do you know how much sodium is in there?” He set about rearranging his pillows so he could sit up against the headboard. “My face is puffy enough as it is.”
“How callous of me.” Time couldn’t hide the gentle tease in his tone as he reached to help Warriors arrange his blankets. “I’ll enlist Wild’s help, then. Would you like me to bring back a movie when I return?”
Warriors’s shoulders stiffened as Time touched his blankets. Normally he’d shoo away the help, but Time knew how having a wrinkled top sheet could drive him insane. Something about the gesture softened the sharp edge in him, though, and by the time the old man glanced up at him again—
Warriors was openly pouting.
Oh, he must feel very bad.
“Yes,” he said quietly, tucking the blankets up to his chest, “I’d like that.”
The reply was rewarded with a rare smile and a pat on his thigh. “You enjoy your tea,” Time said as he turned away, “I won’t be more than a—”
“Hey.”
Time stopped in the doorway, leaning back into the room to meet Warriors’s narrowed eyes.
“If you tell anyone,” Warriors sniffled, “I’ll make your life a living hell.”
“That’s fine,” Time said, “I expect it once you’re feeling better.”
The empty tissue box flung in Time’s direction bounced harmlessly off of the wall as he vanished.
