A trade

(Isa's POV)

Isadora knew something was off the second she walked into the middle Baudelaire's favorite hiding spot, the library.

The 13 year old was asleep on the couch, glasses askew, his face flushed slightly. His hair was a bit of a wavy mess, and she really wanted to touch it, run her fingers through it. She sat down next to where he was lying, and he stirred slightly as she did so. 

"Izzie-wha....?" Klaus' voice was raspy and deeper than usual, and it sounded like he couldn't breathe through his nose very well. She had to admit, he looked adorable, illness aside. 

"You're sick, aren't you?" She said softly, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. He flinched away from the unexpected contact, and she sighed. "You are warm. I'm sorry for waking you." 

He smiled a little, and paused like he was going to say something, but then broke into a fit of harsh, hacking coughs. Isadora frowned in concern, and ran a hand through his hair. 

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." He croaked, but curled into her anyways. "I'm cold. Or, at least, I feel cold. I'm most likely just feverish, that's all." She frowned more at this, and gently wrapped her arms around him.

"Yeah, that's not exactly a good thing. How about you get some sleep?" She suggested, resting her chin on the top of his head and gently tracing patterns on his back. 

"I can deal with that." He sounded so tired, and definitely was, by the look of him. 

Klaus was asleep within seconds, his breathing evening out slowly. Soon, she was asleep too, eyes sliding shut as they lay there, relishing in each other's company.