Darkest Desires

Pyrexiophilia ("Trial" 20)

Steven turned over in bed and tried to stretch out his body. "Oh god," He mumbled. "No, i-it barely bothered me I thought." The hybrid groaned quietly and settled back into bed.

Connie had been reading in the window seat, enjoying the sounds of the ocean and the fantasy world she was diving into. Midsentence her eyes snapped up to fix on the bedroom door. She hadn't heard anything or noticed any movement, but she felt it within her being strong enough to narrow her eyes in suspicion. "Something just happened."

She bookmarked it and crossed over to push the bedroom door open. It was a cloudy, bleak winter day so the lighting in the room was dark and blue in its shadows and highlights. Steven lay on his back with his arm thrown over his face and she almost turned back at the normalcy.

He stirred a bit and hummed. "Connie."

"Hello, love. It's almost four in the afternoon, your nap should probably end now," She teased.

"Can't."

"Why not?" She frowned and came closer to stand over him in concern. Her fingers found his hair first, finding it warm and damp. He was burning up in the face, far more than his normal heat. "Oh, Steven..."

"I feel don't feel good, Ni. Carry on my legacy." He turned sharply to gasp at pain in his joints, grabbing at her hand. "P-please take care of me. I'm so sick."

Connie's heart fluttered in her chest. She felt, especially lately, that he was always taking care of her. The woman grinned and crouched down to place a careful kiss over his cheek. "I'll be right back with your Fever Kit, okay?"

He nodded and whined pitifully. "I miss you. Your ass is otherworldly from this angle."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. She'd really only seen Steven get sick twice: A year ago, and right now. The last spell had given her a tiny taste of Sick Steven, and he was doggish in retrospect. It was like despite his sickness, he was constantly starving for her with even less of a filter than normal.

His confidence had dipped, she guessed, more than they both thought when they went to their first parenting class. He grew pretty tortured about how small the child would be, and how he feared breaking such a magnificent and delicate creature. It had really only been a fearful mumble and a flash of pink before it had passed.

"There goes Starboy repressing his feelings again," She sighed as she pulled out the pink crocheted bag from under the sink. "Shiva this thing is ugly."

It truly was the most hideous thing she'd ever seen. It wasn't very large, no bigger than a slightly above average pencil bag and bright neon pink that had been snuffed out from constantly being under the sink. Steven adored the thing, so she kept his stuff in it only after giggling she would rather be sick than use the bag.

"You brought my Fever Kit." He licked his lips and huffed. "I love you."

"I love you too. Open up." He opened and watched her eyes dreamily. Steven would never admit it to anybody ever, but he secretly liked when he got fevers as rare as they were. The aches and pains and heat couldn't possibly begin to compare to Nurse Connie coming and doting on him for hours with soup and medication and endless affection to reactivate his healing ability. She would start dressing down as well, foregoing her normal attire for a comfy off the shoulder shirt that dipped so far down he'd get overhead glimpses of her breasts as she leaned over and rubbed his cheek while he ate or slept. Her hair would go up messy and most would tumble down her back, as brave and nonconforming as she was.

And it was so.

Fucking.

Sexy.

"You're running a fever alright. Your resting is normally 99.5, but you're at a 102." She cooed at him for a moment and stroked his cheek. "My poor baby. Is there something I can do?"