.:{Imagines}:. ~ IM5

Dana Imagine for Taylor

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Ayee :; I hope you like your Imagine girlie! I hope you guys take a bit of time to check out my website, www.imagineim5.weebly.com ! It would mean a lot!

~ Alana

***

You pout, clutching your bag with firm hands. You rest a gentle hadn on Dana's seemingly lifeless, limp body.

"Babe," you urge. "Please, wake upppp!"

He groans, flipping over and running his fingers through his curly, brown hair. He grabs a snapback off of the pillow beside him, plopping it down on his face and scooting away.

"I dun' feel good..." he mumbled through the hat. "Sick."

You raise your eyebrows, suddenly concerned. You'd been urging Dana all week to come with you to choose an outfit to wear to their next concert, but, much to your annoyance, everything seemed to be "getting in the way", and it never happened. You knew Dana would always get bored when you shopped, poking at mannequins, trying on girls' clothing, and falling asleep in dressing rooms. You knew shopping wasn't really his thing when it came to you, but you'd do it for him.

You whipped off the hat on his face, disbelieving that he was too sick to go.

His face was pale and thin, and his eye sockets were dark, almost bruised because of his bad habit of rubbing at them. The tip of his nose was tinged pink, and his lips were parted, thin and dry as he tried to regain his breath.

He lamely grabbed for the snapback. "Tay', seriously. I feel horrible; you know I wanted to go..."

You huff and cross your arms. "Yeah, sure."

He attempts to crawl out from under the sheets, only to sit at the edge, wincing in pain. Rubbing his forehead, he looks back at you helplessly, sniffling.

"By dose ids ruddy."

You bite back a laugh. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

He sniffles loudly, sighing.

"My nose is runny," he repeats, annoyance salted into his tone.

You roll your eyes. "C'mere." Reaching across the bed, you lay a hand on his forehead. Burning hot. You pull away instantly.

"You're hot," your explain.

He forces a weak smirk. "Thanks, I kno-"

"Dana."

He pouts. "So I have a fever?"

You nod, disappointed. Though you should be more concerned about your sick boyfriend, you can't help but be upset that your plans have, yet again, been cancelled.

Dropping your bag to the floor, you plop down beside him, running your fingers lightly over the length of his back.

"So, King Dana, what do I have to do about all this?"

He bites his lip and pretends to think.

"Make me soup, play video games, and cuddle the crap out of me?"

You groan. "I already have to show up to your concert in old sweats, isn't that enough punishment?"

He smiles as angelicly as he can while still ill. "No. And besides, you'd look just as beautiful," he teases.

You giggle, leaning in to peck him on the lips, but to your surprise, he wriggles away. Burying his face in his pillow, he groans.

"No, you'll get sick if you do that!"

You smirk, amused. "Do what?" He looks up, preparing to explain that you can't kiss him because of his "germs", when you catch him quickly in the lips.

"Gotcha," you whisper.

His blush intensifies. "Ta-ay," he whines. "Now you'll get sick. Stupid germs."

Before he can argue, you slip under the covers, cuddling him close and slipping your fingers underneath the fabric of his shirt, feeling the temperature rise significantly as you touch. You lean up and plant a row of tiny kisses, ending at the tip of his nose.

"I love your stupid germs, though."

***

#wingingit

I hope you enjoyed, Taylor!

~ Alana