I decided to make an advent calendar for our favorite clones! It's going to be a new story every day. They're mostly just fluff, sometimes a bit suggestive or angsty, but all in all, sfw!
(p.s. english isn't my mother tongue, sorry for mistakes!)
warnings: sick reader, mentions of throwing up, pain, taking meds
word count: ~780
a/n: it's kinda a cliché but well, who wouldn't want kix to take care of you?
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The first thing you feel that morning is your throbbing head, together with your sore throat and the pressure of snot in your nose.
Tiredly, you sigh before pulling the blanket tighter around your cold body.
You felt bad for a few days now and were clinging to the hope that the sickness wouldn't fully reach you, but, as you realized a few seconds ago, it did.
Coughing, you try to reach a tissue on your nightstand, failing miserably due to your hurting limbs.
After a few seconds of rest, you bundle your strength and try again, finally able to rip it from the box and clean your nose.
As you swallow unwillingly, your throat hurts awfully. Whimpering, you bury your face in your pillow. It has been a long time since you were sick and felt that bad.
You don't even try to stand up until noon. Busy with wallowing in self-pity, blowing your nose and otherwise trying to sleep, you haven't found the strength to care after yourself. You drank too little over the day, eating didn't even come to your mind, and standing up is only necessary because of your bladder.
When you look in the mirror, you almost startle yourself. A red nose, too pale skin and dark circles under your eyes. You look as bad as you feel.
With a heavy exhale, you decide to at least make you feel a bit better with brushing your teeth. This also doesn't really work because you feel like throwing up as soon as you put the brush in your mouth.
After some deep breaths and a high amount of concentration, you finish your job without emptying your (empty) stomach and decide to make your way back to the bed again.
Just as you start to walk back over to the bedroom, you suddenly hear keys in the door.
Confused, you lean on the wall, thinking about who would come in.
"Hello?" you hear the intruder call. A relieved sigh slips from your lips.
"Kix!" you whimper and almost start crying as soon as he steps into your sight.
"Mesh'la? What happened?" he asks, worried. As soon as he sees you, he immediately walks towards you, trying to take some of your weight.
"I'm sick 'n' everything hurts," you cough, whimpering because of the pain.
Carefully, Kix holds his cool hand against your too hot forehead. "Feels like a fever. Tell me about your other symptoms," he tells you, and immediately changes into medic-mode.
While he brings you over to the couch, you explain to him what is bothering you and how wrong everything feels.
Kix nods, listens carefully, and unpacks some of his things, making scans and taking your temperature. You feel bad. He just finished his shift in the med bay, and now he was to look after your coughing ass.
"I'm sorry," you murmur as he helps you lay down on the couch and tugs some blankets around you.
"About what?" he asks, confused. "For being sick. You don't have to look after me," you explain and exhale relaxed as soon as you're tucked in comfortably.
Kix raises his eyebrow confused, before shaking his head. "You don't feel good, of course I'll take care of you," he says and strokes a finger across your cheek. You just nod.
After a few seconds, he leaves your side and walks towards the kitchen. You hear him rummaging through some things, before he comes back with some medication and a glass of water.
"Take that, okay? Then you'll feel better soon," he murmurs and helps you take the medicine. "Have you eaten anything today?" is the next thing he asks as he slowly strokes your hair.
Closing your eyes, you shake your head and lean closer into his touch.
"Oh, Mesh'la..." he breathes, and you open your eyes again, looking at him guilty. You know how important it is to have a good nutrition income, especially when you're sick. Kix tells you that so often.
"I'm sorry, Kix. But I just... couldn't," you whisper again. Kix smiles at you, a soft, understanding glint in his eyes.
"I'm going to make you some soup, okay? Stay here, you'll feel better soon and call me, when you need something," he explains, tugging in the blanket a last time.
He gives you a small kiss on your forehead, before walking back into the kitchen. After some time, you feel how your eyes start to close again, and how a quiet and painless darkness starts to swallow you again.
Kix is here now. He will take care of you. Everything's going to be fine.
