U Get Sick

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You lie in bed resting. Your just body doesn't feel right. Just then the door creaks open.

"(Y/N). You up yet, mama?"

"Yes," you say softly, "I've been up for while now. I just don't have the energy to move."

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I just want to lay here."

"Okay, baby." He comes over and kisses your forehead. "Ooh, you're burning up."

"Really? I think it's cold in here."

"Oh lord. You're sick."

"No, I'm not! It's February in Minnesota! Everybody and they baby daddy is cold."

"Stay here." He gets up and walks into the bathroom. Annoyed by his persistence you roll your eyes. You're not sick. "Open. I'm going to check your temperature."

"Like hell you are! I'm not sick!"

"Watch it." You go into the drawer of your nightstand, pull out $5 and put it into the cuss bucket. "I'll make you a deal. I'll take your temperature. If it's high you let me take care of you. If it's normal I'll leave you alone."

"Deal." He sticks the thermometer in your mouth and you both wait silently for it to beep. Once it does, you take it out to look at it. Prince snatches it from you and reads it before you get the chance to turn it off. You hang your head in defeat.

"Would you like tea with your grilled cheese?" You let a long sigh and nod. "Why don't you come lay down in Studio B?"

"I don't want to move. My muscles hurt."

"I never said you had to move." He picks you up, blankets and all, and makes the trip to Studio B. He sits you on the couch and you immediately slump over. He chuckles and adjusts your covers, then walks to the piano to finish writing his song. You doze off listening to him play beautiful melodies. After a long peaceful nap, you wake up to the smell of... butter? You open your eyes and see Prince walking towards you. "I thought you'd wake up soon." He says in a deep baritone voice. You look over and see a small coffee table with oatmeal, toast, and orange juice.

"Aww, baby. You didn't need to make me breakfast."

"Somebody had to." He sits on the floor in front of the couch. "Aren't you gonna eat?"

"I guess since you worked so hard." You pick up the bowl and start eating the oatmeal. He watches and refuses to get up until you're finished. "Babe go back to work."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that. Besides you ain't done yet."

"But I'm full." You whine.

He caves and takes your dishes to the kitchen. You trudge off the couch and follow him.

"What're you doing down here? Go back to the studio."

"No, thanks."

"What will it take?"

"My own desire to want to be there." He gives you the side eye. " Just cuz I'm sick don't mean I won't fight you."

"Bring it." You walk up to and push him. He immediately grabs your arms and throws you over his shoulder.

"Put me down!"

"Listen to me. I said for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. Now you're definitely not doing so good and you're obviously sick but, I'm supposed to love you anyway."

"Supposed to?"

"Yes. Supposed to. Now stop being stubborn and let me love you damn it!"

"Okay." He carries you upstairs and lays you down in bed. You spend the whole day cuddling and watching movies. The next day you feel so much better.

"Good morning, Prince." He rolls over, holding his head. 

"Morning." His baritone voice is replaced by a nasally one. You can hear the mucus in his thrust and all you can do is laugh. "This is all your fault.." With that he turns over and tries to go back to sleep.

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