Tayvis One-Shots

fever

Travis's POV

The sound of rain pattering against the window matched the sluggish rhythm of my heart. The room was dim, lit only by the pale glow of a bedside lamp. Taylor lay buried under a mountain of blankets, her normally bright, confident demeanor dulled by the flush of fever and the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead.

"Travis," she croaked, her voice hoarse, "I think I'm dying."

I chuckled softly, setting a mug of tea on the nightstand beside her. "You're not dying, drama queen. It's just a cold."

"Feels like death," she mumbled, sinking further into the cocoon of blankets.

I pulled up a chair beside her bed and reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. Her skin was warm to the touch, but not alarmingly so. "If you were really dying, you wouldn't be able to whine so much."

She shot me a weak glare, but it quickly dissolved into a half-hearted sniffle. "You're mean."

"Uh-huh," I said, leaning back in the chair. "Mean enough to take care of you when you're sick. Mean enough to miss practice to make sure you have tea and soup."

Her lips curved into a small smile, and she peeked out from under the blankets. "You skipped practice?"

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Yeah, well... somebody had to keep you alive."

She stared at me for a moment, her blue eyes glassy but still managing to hold that spark that always undid me. "Thanks, Travis."

I reached for the bowl of soup I'd brought up earlier, holding a spoonful toward her. "Eat. You need to keep your strength up."

Taylor groaned, shaking her head. "Not hungry."

"Come on, just a few bites," I coaxed. "Don't make me pull out the big guns."

Her eyebrows arched in a weak attempt at suspicion. "Big guns?"

I grinned, leaning forward conspiratorially. "The puppy eyes. You know you can't resist them."

She rolled her eyes but opened her mouth, letting me feed her a spoonful of soup.

"See?" I said, sitting back triumphantly. "Not so bad, right?"

She made a noncommittal noise, closing her eyes again. For a few minutes, the room was quiet, save for the rain outside and the occasional rustle of blankets.

"Travis?" she murmured after a while, her voice softer now.

"Yeah?"

"You're kind of amazing, you know that?"

I laughed quietly. "I know."

She cracked one eye open, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Cocky much?"

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the edge of the bed. "I have to be. You're stubborn as hell. If I wasn't confident, you'd walk all over me."

Her smile widened slightly, but then she sighed, her expression turning serious. "I mean it, though. You didn't have to do all this. But you did. And... it means a lot."

Something about the way she said it made my chest tighten. I reached out, taking her hand in mine. It was small and cold, despite the warmth radiating from her fever.

"You mean a lot to me, Taylor," I said quietly. "I'd do anything for you. Even if it means dealing with your terrible sick-person attitude."

She let out a soft laugh, squeezing my hand weakly. "You're ridiculous."