Pardon The Way That I Stare

Warm

The next morning, Alastor woke up to the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains, casting a warm light over the room. He blinked slowly, stretching as he realized Lucifer was still nestled against him, breathing softly. With a smile, he gently ran his fingers through Lucifer's hair, ready to rouse him from sleep.

"Time to wake up, my dear," Alastor whispered, pressing a light kiss to Lucifer's forehead. "The day awaits us."

Instead of the usual groggy but cheerful greeting, Alastor was met with a soft groan. Lucifer shifted under the blankets, burying his face deeper into Alastor's chest. His breath sounded heavier than normal, almost congested.

"Five more minutes..." Lucifer muttered, his voice raspy and nasal, not at all his usual smooth tone. He sniffled, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand before letting out a soft, congested cough.

Alastor frowned, his hand resting on Lucifer's shoulder. "Lucifer?" he asked softly, tilting his head down to get a better look at his partner. "Are you feeling alright?"

Lucifer grumbled something incoherent, lifting his head just enough to squint up at Alastor. His eyes were bleary, and his face looked pale, with a faint flush on his cheeks. "Ugh," he groaned again, his voice rough and thick with congestion. "I feel like death."

Alastor's brows knitted together in concern as he gently placed a hand on Lucifer's forehead. He was warm—too warm. "It seems you've caught something, my dear."

Lucifer sniffled again, pulling the blanket up to his chin. "Just a cold," he muttered, his voice still raspy. "No big deal." He paused, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his robe before adding, "I hate being sick."

Alastor chuckled softly, though his worry didn't fade. "That's quite evident," he said, his voice gentle as he sat up in bed. "Well, lucky for you, you've got me to take care of you." He brushed a lock of hair from Lucifer's face and gave him a comforting smile.

Lucifer groaned again, clearly not thrilled about the prospect of spending the day bedridden. "I'm fine," he rasped, though his stuffed-up nose made it hard to take him seriously. He tried to sit up, but immediately slumped back down, his strength sapped. "Okay... maybe not."

Alastor shook his head, amused by Lucifer's stubbornness even in this state. "No need to be a hero today," he said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You'll rest, and I'll handle everything else."

Lucifer let out a stuffy sigh, sinking further into the pillows. "Fine. But no babying me. I'm the King of Hell, remember?"

"Of course," Alastor replied, a playful smirk on his lips. "The King of Hell, reduced to a sniffling, groggy mess. Quite the sight to behold."

Lucifer shot him a half-hearted glare, but it was clear he was too tired to argue. He sniffled again and let out a small sneeze. "Ugh... I'm disgusting," he muttered, wiping his nose.

"You're still as charming as ever," Alastor teased, leaning down to kiss him gently on the lips despite the groans of protest from Lucifer.

Lucifer couldn't help but smile weakly at that. "I don't know how you can stand me right now," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alastor's smile softened as he ran his fingers through Lucifer's hair once more. "Because I love you, dear," he said simply. "Sick or not, you'll always be perfect to me."

Lucifer blinked up at him, sniffling again as his expression softened. "You're too good to me."

"Perhaps," Alastor said with a chuckle. "Now, let me go make you some tea. You stay right here and rest."

Lucifer didn't argue this time. Instead, he settled deeper into the blankets, his body still aching from the cold, but his heart warmed by Alastor's care. As Alastor left the room to prepare tea, Lucifer's eyes fluttered closed again, feeling a bit more at peace knowing he was in good hands.