Mild Trigun Oneshots

A Little Cold (Vash x GN!Reader)

Tags: domestic fluff, sickfic, hurt/comfort, flu, common cold, caretaking

***

"I did offer you my coat, love," Vash says softly as he sits next to you on the bed. One of his hands is occupied with the cup of tea he offers you; the other gently lays on the blanket covering your shivering body.

"Yeah, yeah, I know you would never outright tell me I told you so, but just because you use different words doesn't make it any less annoying," you reply with a nasal voice as you take the warm cup of tea out of his hand, your fingers still clutching a clean tissue.

"Getting caught in the cold wind is how you get sick." He smiles tenderly while looking at you.

"Uh-uh." You sip the hot tea and feel it soothe the scratching in your throat. "And hanging around a diseased person is another way to get sick. Shoo!"

You try waving him away before setting the cup on the nightstand and blowing your nose loudly. Vash shows no sign of leaving; his hand on your leg strokes it through the thick fabric. He feels your body shivering and reaches out for a second blanket draped over the edge of the bed.

"You're still cold. Have this," he says, unfolding the cover and leaning closer to drape it around you.

"No! Begone! I'm sick, not dead! I can do it myself. You'll get sick too!" You complain as you push him away with one hand, the other still covering your face with the handkerchief.

"I've heard the quickest way to get better is to pass it on," he chuckles. You give him a death stare, not finding his joke the least bit funny. You take the blanket and wrap it around yourself. Before you can swat him away again, his large hand is pressed against your forehead, checking for a fever.

"Are you deaf?" Your outburst itches your hurting windpipe in the wrong way, and you manage to hide yourself under the covers before the coughing fit begins. "We'll get your ears checked next time we're in town."

You take the mug back and down most of the hot liquid to soothe your raw throat. You lean your head against the backrest and let out a sigh. The warm tea brings you some comfort, and as you close your eyes, the shivering starts to subside. Vash's hand pats your thigh again.

"You should go to sleep now," he says softly. You nod in agreement, feeling grateful for his care and concern. "You'll feel better when you wake up."

He takes the cup from your hand and stands up to give you more room to slither deeper under the covers. He tucks you in and looks at your curled up position with slight amusement. Your stubbornness always makes him laugh, but he doesn't want to rile you up again, so he keeps it to himself.

"Sleep tight, hun!" he says quietly as he pushes your hair away from your face.

"Thanks, love!" Your muffled answer can be heard from between layers of blankets.

***

Vash returns to the bedroom a few hours later, after he hasn't heard violent coughing outbursts for a little while. He finds you sleeping peacefully, limbs sprawled out on the bed, taking up all the space. He smiles as he creeps closer to the bed. You are still obviously sick, but perhaps the fever has gotten better. He thinks back to the little rumor he heard about passing on illness. He has very rarely been sick; his slightly alien nature has spared him of such a thing. So what's the worst that could happen?

He leans closer to you and plants a soft kiss on your lips. You don't wake up, but you do mumble something through the haze of sleep. He smiles softly and whispers, "I love you too."

He straightens up again and gets changed into his night clothes before climbing into bed next to you. He is careful not to stir your sleep; he doesn't want you to chase him away or, worse, leave to sleep on the couch yourself. He knows how much you need your sleep, and he wants you to feel safe and loved. Not to mention, he cannot bear sleeping in a different room than you. He positions himself on the very edge of the bed, his long limbs finding space where yours aren't. He would like to pull you tight and keep you close all night long, but the earful he would get wouldn't let either of you sleep.

The night passes with the peaceful snores and occasional coughs, but dawn breaks into the room and strokes your face with warm sunlight. You stretch your achy muscles and yawn, feeling a lot better than you did the night before. You sit up and roll your neck, surprised to find that you slept soundly through the entire night and your throat doesn't feel like it's strangling itself. You look to your side to find an unexpected large lump under the blankets. You start to reach over as you hear muffled sniffles escape it.

"Vash?" you quietly ask, unsure if he is asleep or not.

Two hands creep out from under the blanket and grab the edge of it to pull down, revealing Vash's slightly red face. He snivels loudly, but his eyes have an innocent glimmer in them.

"Darling, I think I might be sick," he says nasally, a sorry look on his face.

"You dumbass," you say, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile.