ALEX TURNER IMAGINES

Sick Alex (Drabble)

just fluff!

so you're coming home from work, it's been a long day and all you're craving is a cuppa tea and alex's strong arms around you.

but when you enter the house, you're met with silence. usually, there's some background noise- music, the tv, chatter, anything. you even wonder if he's home at all.

upon stepping into the living room, you see alex sprawled out on the couch, there are used tissues scattered everywhere, an empty mug of herbal tea on the coffee table. and alex- he's asleep. at least it looks like it, because before you can pivot and leave the room to make yourself a brew, his croaky voice calls your name.

he sounds feeble and exhausted, his usually chipper voice only a throaty, deep sound you don't recognise. so you sit beside him on the edge of the sofa, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

"how're you feeling, love?"

"poorly." he pouts, and wraps his arms around you in a weak attempt to pull you closer and into him.

"awh, my poor man. let me get you some painkillers." as you're about to get up, his arms tighten around you.

"stay."

"al," you chuckle, "i'll be right back."

he groans in disapproval, "wanna lay with you."

"it'll take me about two minutes."

"please? i want to spoon you for a little bit."

you can't really say no to that, can you? so you give in and lie down in front of him, smiling in adoration when he pulls you closer so your back is flush with his chest. alex sighs deeply, as if the symptoms of his flu would dissipate simply by holding you in his arms.

soon, you hear soft snores coming from behind you, and you gently shake your head with a chuckle. carefully, you peel out of his arms and it works, he's sound asleep and doesn't even notice you're gone.

you collect the discared tissues and throw them away after wrapping alex in a soft blanket. you make a big pot of tea and some chicken soup and fetch the painkillers.

as soon as the soup is finished, you hear alex call your name from the living-room again.

"what's the matter, baby? you feeling okay?"

"no, please feel my forehead." he stretches out his arms like a child, makig grabby hands at you, and you sit down and place a hand on his forehead.

"oh love, you're burning up. here, take this." you hand him a paracetamol and watch him swallow it with some water. he looks adorable yet alarmingly unwell- his cheeks are flushed while the rest of his face is white as a sheet.

"i made soup, I'll go and get it."

alex just nods, and you swiftly return with two bowls of soup. He accepts one of them thankfully and you settle on the couch to eat. every spoon seems to hurt his throat, and once he's finished and sets the empty bowl aside, he curls up into a ball next to you with his head in your lap. you place your own bowl on the coffee table and start to softly rake your fingers through his locks, gently massaging his scalp.

alex hums in content, and before you know it, he's asleep again. you're happy he's able to rest, at least,

"poor al, i'll try and make you feel better as soon as possible. promise."