Rough Patch

Recovery (short)

She was weak when she awoke the next mornings thereafter. She was still weak almost 4 days later. But she was never alone in her recovery.

Steven called and visited every day while she was on bedrest at home for the first 2 days. Then he started "accidentally" sleeping over. Late at night he would turn in beside her bed on an army cot and wake up every 4 hours to check up on her temperature and if need be, cool her down.

He kept her company and sat beside her while she slept during the day. He made her soup and baked for her, and constantly made sure she wasn't hungry or thirsty in any way.

"Steven, I want tequila." Connie groused.

"Connie, I want you to get better. And tequila is not apart of that. Quit asking. You know alcohol isn't good for you. It's another unhealthy coping mechanism."

"You're one to talk." She muttered.

"Watch it..."

"But Steven..." She used her best puppy dog eyes on him to no avail.

"We are a couple right now. Just me and you. Tequila is not welcome to this relationship. And I don't want to hear about him again." A slight smile played on his face and Connie weakly shoved him.

"You're such a--"

"--dork?"

"Biscuit. You're such a Biscuit." She murmured sweetly.

"Flatterer." Steven said, his face embarrassingly red in response. "You hungry?"

"Ughhhhhhhhh if you ask me that one more time I swear-"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Are you thirsty then?"

Connie just threw her head to the side and groaned louder.

Some days were better than others...

"Connie you need to eat. Now."

"Nno!" She pouted and turned her head away from the soup.

"Its been an entire day. I let breakfast and lunch slide because you were sleeping but you have to eat!"

"I don't wanna." The ebony girl grumbled.

"Okay. Okay." Steven relented. "Fine. Don't eat. I'm going to clean up the kitchen. I'll just leave this here, okay?"

"I'm not gonna eat it!" She called as he walked away.

"You don't have to." He chuckled. "I'm just leaving it there. My hands are kinda full."

Connie recoiled at the smugness that accompanied his statement. "Your hands aren't full. You aren't even--"

"They are full carring for a stubborn brat with a sudden aversion to nutrients and staying healthy. Whom I happen to... care about very much." He departed into the kitchen and fell silent as he washed the counters and stove. He honestly enjoyed watching over for Connie more than he cared to admit. Of course, it was probably written all over his face. He couldn't help it. Even on days like today.

He finished 15 minutes later and poured himself a glass of water to bring with him.

He almost outright laughed when he saw the shockingly empty bowl and spoon on the bedside table closer to a snoring Connie.

Steven placed his hand on her cheek and then replaced it with his lips. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"

FilippoMasiero2
idkfanficreader