Artem fanfics (Tears of Themis)

Sick Artem (its kinda like the reverse of in sickness and in health)

          "Good morning Mr. Wing," you chirp as you see Artem walk through the doors of his office. He's always early, so it isn't much of a surprise to see him already starting work at such an early hour. Normally, he looks smart and sharp, but something seems off today. Is it his slightly ruffled hair? But working on case files for too long can be stressful, and sometimes you tend to get frustrated and run a hand haphazardly through your hair as well. So you shrug it off and continue your work.
        Not long after, Artem calls you into his office regarding a troublesome case the both of you have been working on. It has got something to do with an abduction of a young girl, but nothing the two of you do seem to click as to why the perpetrator targeted the specific girl. You walk into his office to see him slumped over in his desk, head buried in his arms. Has he been working late? Artem normally puts work before anything else, especially his sleep and health, so this worries you quite a bit. He can handle late nights pretty well, and you know it. You call out his name softly, and his head snaps up. "I- I didn't see you there, y/n, let's get to the case," he avoids talking about why he looks so tired and tries to divert the attention away from himself, but today he just cannot focus. He stumbles on a major point and you correct him. This isn't Artem, he's very strict and will keep his things in order. You glance at his furrowed brows and slightly flushed face. Is he sick? "Artem, are you sure you don't need a quick break? Want to walk to the pantry to get a glass of water? It'd be good for you," you suggest, and he hesitates before shakily standing up. You see his hands grip the table firmly before fully standing to his full height, and immediately know something is wrong. Like on cue, he stumbles and catches the table, his hands barely latching onto the edge before he fell. It doesn't get this bad. "You're not okay," you blurt out. Artem's face holds a stunned expression. He tells you to watch your health, yet here he is, working so hard despite being sick. His flushed face turns even redder as you step closer to him and reach for his forehead. You're right, it can cook an egg. Heat radiates off his body, and you can feel it under your clothes. Well, he's definitely not okay. His breath hitches as your hand moves to his neck, and you realise what you did. "I-I was checking your body temperature," you mutter an excuse to save yourself. Well it's not a lie. "I'm fine, it must be your hand that's cold. I don't have a fever or the like, I can continue working. No need to worry about me," he insists. You still end up forcing him to go home and get rest, insisting that his health comes first.
         He barely makes it to his residence, almost tripping over a patch of uneven ground near the front door. You steady him and he leans heavily on you, relying on your guidance to get him into his bed. He insists that he has to change up before he gets into his bed, which is reasonable, but you tell him to make it a quick one. He needs as much rest as he can get. You get him a glass of water, which you place beside his bed, and patiently wait for him to finish changing. In the meantime, you get a cloth and wet it to reduce his body temperature. He must be uncomfortable. Artem stumbles out and you lead him to his bed. "You.. you can go now, I can take care of myself. I'll be fine," he tells you, but you're not buying it. You fold your arms. "Well, the last time I got sick and told you that I could take care of myself, you still stayed by my side and refused to leave. I should be able to do the same," you argue. Artem sighs deeply. "Alright. Just this once, okay?" He crawls under the covers and you aid him in covering the blanket over him. He looks so vulnerable, all tucked into his bed and half awake. You gently fold the towel and place it on his forehead, but not before warning him that it was going to be cold. He draws in a sharp breath as you place the towel on his forehead, and you can swear you heard him whimper softly. Your heart melted. Sick Artem was so cute but so heartbreaking to watch. You push his hair out of the way, and he mutters something like "you're so gentle and soft.." You blush slightly and thank that Artem is delirious and isn't very aware of his surroundings.
         "Y/n, could you hold my hand? It's cold.." he mutters and reaches out for your hand. Is he sleeping or awake? You can't really tell.. "Y/n..." he whines and you take his hand tentatively. Is this okay? Is your hand cold? A thousand questions race through your mind as you hold his hand. His grip tightens as he feels you warmth. "Never leave me. Don't go.." he tells you, eyes still shut. "I-I won't go," you assure him and he smiles gently. "Thanks for taking care of me. I really like it when you hold my hand. It's warm and comforting and..." he drifts off into sleep. You'll never know the end of that sentence, probably.
          "I really really like you."
          You are taken aback by what he just said. Did you hear him correctly? Or was it just one of your fantasies? You like Artem, and you know it. It's even obvious to your colleagues. "I wish we could stay like this forever," he mutters.
         Artem sleep talking, huh. He basically just confessed, and he won't even remember it. It'll probably be something you think of when Artem wakes up. Best not to bring it up. But since..he isn't technically awake...
      "I really really like you too."