Hiya, could you do one were Jack calls you up and asks to get him medicine as he’s really sick, you come around to his house to find him wrapped in blankets and looking like hell. You give his medicine but instead of going you stay and care of him for the rest of the day? :)
Hope you like! - Kit
You tug the door to your flat closed, sliding the key into your back pocket as you pull your hoodie tighter around your torso. Being late November, the weather nips at any exposed skin and its icy breath chases you along the street. You pause momentarily, reaching into your back pocket as you feel your phone vibrating. You hit ‘accept’ and hold it up to your ear;
You’re greeted by a crackling round of coughing and spluttering, and you blink in surprise. The coughing eventually subsides and a strained “Y/N?” sounds from the other end of the phone.
"Nope." The coughing starts up again and you frown, leaning against a wall out of the way of people. "I’m sick."
"Can you pick me up some medicine on the way over here?"
"Sure. I’ll be there in ten."
When you get to Jack’s house, you let yourself in and shiver. It’s still pretty cold inside the house, so you leave the bag on the table by the door and turn up the heating. When you turn around, you come face to face with Jack, wrapped up in a duvet as he stands in the doorway. His skunk-coloured hair falls limply across his forehead and he pouts at you.
You pout back at him, crossing the room and reaching up to brush his fringe out of his eyes, revealing dark shadows beneath them and his cheeks to be colourless.
"You weren’t kidding, you look like hell."
"I reckon my hair’s still better than yours, though."
"You wish, skunk boy." You smile, "Now, go up to bed."
"But it’s boring when I’m sick!”
"I’ll be up in a minute, okay?"
"Yes, I promise."
"Mmkay." Jack turns and starts shuffling up the stairs, still wrapped from head to toe in his duvet. You retrieve the bag from the table and set about making soup. While it heats, you set about finding the Home Alone DVDs, and get out the assorted medicine. In all honesty you were just expecting a case of man-flu, but it was apparent that Jack was genuinely ill.
When you go into his bedroom, he;s sat on the bed with the duvet crumpled and half-covering him with the pillows scattered, like a child after a failed attempt at fort-making. You sit opposite him and coax him to drink the soup. He has to pause several times because of his violent coughing fits, and so afterwards you give him his medication and a glass of water as you set about putting the first Home Alone DVD in the player of the TV opposite the bed, and begin putting the bed back together. Jack curls up against the pillows when you were finished, and holds out his arms to you, making grabby hands as you sit down next to him. He tugs you closer to him as he wraps his arms clumsily around you, his head resting on your shoulder.
"Love you." he mumbles in your ear, already seeming to drift off to sleep.
You smile, “Right back at you.”