Why Don't We Preferences

CB Imagine 2

You coughed multiple times and attempted to clear your throat.  You groaned and pulled the blanket over your head.  Someone opened the door, followed by a quiet "Baby?"  You poked your head out to see who the intruder was.  

"Don't come in Bean, don't wanna get you sick," you slurred, attempting to sit up.  Corbyn helped you sit up and smiled sadly.  

"I know, but I can't leave you in here alone."  You smiled and was about to say something when you saw what was in his hand.  

"HELL NO!" You hoarsely shouted, scrambling under the blankets.  "I am not fucking drinking funky tomato juice."

"Baby V8 is good for you, so you're gonna drink all of it.  All.  Of.  It."  

"V8... is literal vomit Corbs, not good at all," you complained.  Corbyn sighed, his hand pulling the blanket down a bit.  

"You'll get better faster," he sighed.  You grimaced and gagged.  

"I'd be fine if you let me heal alone, without fucking disgusting slush."  

"You fell down the stairs because you collasped," he pinched the bridge of his nose.  That was true.  You were feeling dizzy and tired and boom.  You fell down the staircase.  Hooray, you're a clutz.  

"So?" you whined.  "That doesn't explain why V8 is good for you."

"Acutally, V8 is really good for you.  It keeps you full, prevents weight gain if you overeat, regulate blood sugar, prevents constipation-"

"TMI."

"Oh, and it protects you against heart disease, so yeah... it's pretty healthy.  It's got two servings of veggies in an eight ounce glass," he waved the bottle around.  "Five daily servings reduce heart disease and stroke.  It lessens your risk of cancer by four percent-" you clamped a hand over his mouth to keep him from going on.  He grabbed your wrist and pried your hand away.  "It's low in calories if that's what you're worried about."  

"You done?"

"Well, no, it's a good supply of-"

"Nope, you're done."  You removed your hand from his mouth again.  "Honey, I don't care about calories, I just want to sleep and NOT have to drink that gross stuff," you gestured towards the bottle in his hand.  

"But, I just want you to get better," he frowned.  

"I know, but I've been sick before and I have methods that work," you smiled lazily.  

"You could die from heart disease, which V8 reduces," he added.  

"No one in my family has ever had any heart diseases, we're fit as fiddles.  You worry too much Corbyn."  As much as you loved him doting on you, this was a new extreme.  You started coughing again, which resulted in Corbyn freaking out and patting your back.  

"Okay, I'm gonna leave the V8 here, here are two water bottles.  I have soup downstairs.  Do you want clam chowder or chicken noodle soup.  I'll make both.  Here's a box of tissues, I can get you a heating pad if you want," he started piling things on your bed, which amazed and worried you.  "Do you want some advil?  Do you have a headache?" 

"Corbyn, stop.  I just have a little cold, it's almost gone anyway.  You can stop worrying," you giggled.  "Please stop, I'm barely sick and you're making me nervous."  

"But..."

"No buts, I just cuddles, okay?  You're only in town for another day or two."  You pointed to his suitcase in the corner.  He gasped, eyes wide.  "What?" you asked alarmed.  

"Who's gonna take care of you when I'm on tour!?"  

*holy fucking shit.  so, i took a very long vacation, i'm sick that's why i'm writing this.  i have a preference planned for the weekend, we'll see.  don't worry, i'm alive, sort of.  also, Trust Fund Baby anyone?*