Never Let Go - Danisnotonfire x Reader

Sickness and Cuddling

You wake up with a pounding headache, and a sore stomach to go along with it. You glance at the clock beside the bed. 5am.

You drag yourself out of bed and grab your crutches to go to the bathroom, running a hand over your face and sighing.

You see that you have big purple bags under your eyes, to your dismay. Your face is not its normal colour, and sickly looking. You sigh again and close your eyes.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea overcomes you, making you want to throw up. You quickly drop to your knees, wincing in pain where your leg hits the tiled floor, and empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

You stay hunched over like that for a few more minutes, until you've regained your breath and feel a bit better.

You flush the toilet and wash your face, rinsing out the disgusting acidy taste from your mouth.

Then, you take a quick shower, feeling clean and refreshed afterwards. You wrap a towel around yourself and walk into your bedroom, desperately trying to hold onto the towel and the crutches at the same time.

You put on some casual clothes - a comfortable hoodie, black leggings and stripey woolly socks. You roll one of the legs of the leggings up carefully so it doesn't cover your burn.

You go back to Dan's room. He's still asleep, curled up in a foetal position. You smile to yourself and limp over to the side of the bed, climbing in beside him.

You close your eyes, which seems to help the headache slightly. You can't get back to sleep, though, however hard you try.

After what seems like a few days, but is probably only a few hours, you feel movement next to you. You open your eyes and find yourself looking straight into a pair of brown eyes.

"Hello," Dan whispers quietly, finding your hand under the covers and giving it a squeeze. "You're a bit pale... are you okay?"

"Not really," you admit. "I think I've caught a bug of some sort..."

"Aww, what's wrong?"

"I have a sore stomach, and my head is killing me," you reply, pouting. After you've finished speaking, you feel a warm hand on your forehead.

"You're roasting!" Dan observes, frowning and removing his hand from your forehead, instead moving it down to caress your cheek.

"I don't feel like it," you say, sighing. "I'm really cold..."

He moves closer to you to kiss you on the lips, but you cover your face with your hand. "You'll get sick!" you protest.

"Don't care," he replies simply, moving your hand aside gently and capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

You blush when Dan pulls away, rolling your eyes at his stubborn attitude. He smiles sweetly at you, his dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"What time is it?" he asks, propping himself up on one elbow and peering over at the clock beside you. "5 minutes past 9... it's so early!"

You close your eyes again, feeling your head throb. "Mhm..." you reply to him, not feeling strong enough to say any proper words.

"I'll get you some paracetamol," Dan says after a short pause. He kisses your forehead and leaves the room.

After a few moments, he comes in again. You open your eyes and see that he has a box of tablets and a glass of water in his hands.

He sits down beside you, perched on the edge of the bed. You sit up slowly, with his arm supporting you from behind.