Tayvis One-Shots

chicken soup

if you can tell i'm not sleeping so expect a lot of updates

Travis's POV

It started two days ago, though Taylor swore up and down it was nothing. A scratchy throat, a sniffle, and maybe a little fatigue, but nothing that could slow her down, at least, according to her. I'd watched her juggle a packed schedule of interviews, rehearsals, and meetings, all while brushing off the fact that she looked paler and more exhausted with each passing hour.

"I'm fine, Travis," she'd said, waving me off when I suggested she take a break. Her voice had been hoarse, and she'd covered it up with a quick sip of tea. "I've got too much to do. I can't let a little cold get in the way."

But I'd known better. I'd seen the way she winced when she swallowed, the way she pulled her cardigan tighter around herself like she couldn't get warm. And that stubborn streak of hers? It only made her push herself harder when she should've been resting.

By the time yesterday rolled around, she was visibly dragging, but still, she didn't stop. She insisted on finishing her last round of meetings, even though I could hear the congestion creeping into her voice. I'd driven her home that night, watching as she leaned her head against the window, her eyes fluttering shut every few minutes.

"Taylor, you need to rest," I'd said gently as we pulled into the driveway.

She'd opened one eye and given me a weak smile. "I will," she'd promised. "After I finish this week."

"Tay, you're not invincible," I'd reminded her.

She'd laughed, though it had been more of a croak. "Says the guy who runs headfirst into walls for a living."

That was the last of her sass, though, because by the time we got inside, she was too tired to argue. I'd tucked her into bed, and she'd fallen asleep almost instantly, leaving me to hope that a good night's rest would help her turn a corner.

It didn't.

This morning, she didn't even try to pretend she felt okay. She stayed in bed, bundled up under a mountain of blankets, her face flushed with fever. When I brought her some water, she gave me a pitiful look that hit me right in the chest.

"Hey, sick girl," I said softly, setting the glass down on the nightstand.

"Travis," she rasped, her voice so faint I had to lean in to hear her. "I feel awful."

I brushed a strand of hair off her clammy forehead, frowning at the heat radiating from her skin. "You're burning up, Tay. We need to get some fluids in you."

She groaned, burrowing deeper into the blankets. "I just want to sleep."

"I know, baby," I said, my heart breaking a little at how small and vulnerable she looked. "But you need to take care of yourself. Can you drink some water for me?"

She sighed but nodded, sitting up just enough for me to hand her the glass. She took a few sips before handing it back and flopping back onto the pillows.

"You're going to make me soup, aren't you?" she mumbled, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Damn right I am," I said, trying to keep the mood light even though I hated seeing her like this. "Best chicken noodle soup you've ever had."

"Don't forget the crackers," she murmured, her eyes already starting to close again.

"You got it, Tiger."

I let her rest while I headed to the kitchen, determined to make her something that would actually help her feel better. Cooking wasn't exactly my forte, but I could handle soup. By the time the broth was simmering on the stove, the house smelled like comfort, and I hoped it would coax her appetite back.