First, it was Braun. Within hours, Cain felt the effects beginning to take place and had to leave practice early. Then, Moustakas fell. You knew for a fact that the flu wouldn't skip over the Yelich household, but you still held onto hope.
The illness had been circulating through the households of the Milwaukee Brewers for weeks on end. There were barely any players well enough to have practice and those who attended were the lucky few that seemed to be immune.
You and Christian barricaded yourselves from the rest of the team and your friends and it seemed the two of you went through gallons of hand sanitizer within days. You have made it this far without getting sick, you think your immune system would be strong enough to fight off the illness, right? Wrong.
The sudden and ear piercing shrill from Christian's alarm clock woke you but you quickly noticed something off. It felt as if someone poured ice cubes down your back but at the same time lit the sheets on fire.
You felt the movement from Yelich's side of the bed as he reached to turn the alarm off.
"Morning, babe." Christian spoke, standing up and stretching his arms.
"Morning." You grumbled, taking into notice how nasily your voice sounded and how you suddenly couldn't breathe out of your nose. Oh crap.
"(Y/N), are you feeling ok? You look pale." Christian said while sitting onto the bed next to you and brushing the hair out of your face.
"I'm sick." You blurted out while pouting your lip, accepting that you had succumbed to the illness.
"Aww, I'll go make you some breakfast. I'll be right back." He said, pecking your cheek before standing up to leave the room.
"Christian, don't kiss me, I don't want you to get sick too." You reply, pulling a fuzzy blanket over yourself.
"It's worth it." He says before kissing you again, leaving the room to make you your favorite breakfast.
