Shawn Mendes one shots

You're sick (blurb)

"Oh, love." Shawn says, his eyes darting towards you. "You don't look good today."

He sits down on the bedside of the white bed, worried eyes planted on you and then, he places his palm softly on your burning forehead for a few seconds. Pressing his lips slightly together, he tilts his head and sends you a warm smile.

"You have a fever, that's for sure."

"It's fine, I think I'm fine."

"Really?" He asks you, raising his eyebrow at you. "You look like shit." 

"Thanks Shawn..." You mumble back at his words. Your head is aching, the fever is heating you up and your body is sore from being sick all night. You really aren't in a mood for his stupid jokes.

"Not like that, honey." Shawn hurries to say as he wrinkles his forehead. "I'm actually worried about you. You're never this sick."

And he was right. You were never sick. You may have days with headaches or a slight cold, but you were never knocked out for several days in a row. The last time you remember throwing up, you were seven and had eaten too much candy for halloween. 

Shawn doesn't like the fact that you're this pale. He doesn't like how blank your eyes look or how dark the circles underneath are. He doesn't like how your lips are completely out of colour. To be honest, Shawn hates seeing you this drained and he worries it might be serious. 

"Did you drink something?" He suggest as his fingertips strokes your feverish cheeks. "Water is always is answer."

"I tried, but I've been throwing whatever up again." You whisper and watch how Shawn wrinkles his nose. 

"Okay, next idea then." He mumbles as he push his fingers through your hair. "How about some ice for your head, eh? Wouldn't that be nice?"

You don't even get the chance to reply before Shawn are on his way out of the dark bedroom. You hear him fumble in the kitchen and a few seconds later, he comes back with a bag of ice in his hands. Leaning towards your heavy body laying in bed, he carefully place the ice on your forehead. You shut your eyes to enjoy the coolning rushing down your spine. It's almost giving you chills. 

"How does it feel?"

"Good." You mutter back. Shawn's fingers brush against your lips as he leans down to plant a soft kiss on them. 

Carefully, he crawls into bed with you, pulls the covers over his body and pulls you closer to his chest. Shawn's hands begins to rub your back and he leans down once in a while, to place soft kisses on your neck and shoulders. 

"Shawn, stop." You tell him. "I'll get you sick too." 

He laughs at your worries, but he doesn't move away from you. In fact, he wraps his arms around your sore body and pulls you even closer to his chest. Lips still wandering free on your feverish skin and afterwards, he presses his face against your neck. 

"My immune system is fireproof, baby. I can handle it." He says, lovingly. Not even caring whether or not me might get sick. "Just don't puke on me, okay?"

"I'll do my best."

"That's my girl." He laughs as he cuddles you to sleep.