DAMIEN AND SELENE

Selene Does A Sick

"Get in bed. Now."

"Damiennn," Selene rasped groggily from her favorite chair in the Manor (of which she rarely sprawled out on, but now is different). "I'm finne. I'll take a couple allergy pills or some mess like that and be totallyyy finnnnne." She sniffed and turned on her side, making her see-through red blouse tighten around her back. She grumbled and fixed it, which made Damien chuckle to her dismay.

She was always like this, but very rarely did she get sick—even before Darkon. It was always the occasional cold or cough, or laryngitis (a performer's worst enemy) that would catch her, despite her denial. This time it was a bad cold bordering on flu territory, diagnosed by the dead doctors themselves. "Even if she gets a good amount of rest today, it might take a couple days for her to shake it," Genevieve had advised Damien earlier that day. "It's now or never if she wants to get better soon."

Before she could swat it away, Damien placed his hand on her forehead—she was burning up. Her face was sunken and pale while her nose and eyes were dark, puffy, and red. She had a slight sheet of sweat covering her, and she shivered. "That's complete and utter crap and you know it, Selene," he said with a scowl. "You're running a fever."

"I'm surrrre."

"Selene, please," he begged (on his hands and knees too). "You. Are. Sick. When Iplier saw you at breakfast this morning, he wanted me to put you in quarantine!" He giggled slightly, then softened his gaze. "Even you could at least admit that you wanna hop into bed for a little while and rest up."

Selene eyes went downcast. "Well, yes... But it's not all about sleep. There's too much to do around here!" She ran a hand through her messy black hair and sighed. "Bing has a lesson today, Silver asked me a few days ago if I would help him and Diamond set up shooting targets, and Wesli, Tumblr, and Ophélie wanted me to go shopping with them this afternoon..."

"Darling, you can always reschedule those things. I don't think the others would mind. Plus, I'm sure that Wilford and Wesli would be overjoyed at setting up targets they can shoot and not get yelled at for it."

"You know I'm not one to reschedule things, Damy."

"Yes, I know that about you, Love. But your wellbeing comes first." Damien quickly scooped Selene off her now dampened chair and began to head to their bedroom. She didn't protest this time. "If you still carried out those plans today, imagine how much worse you'll be tomorrow, Sel! Then nothing would get done," he said smirking as he set her upright on the bed. "And I know that might kill you more than the sickness."

"Oh, right," she said tiredly. Her eyelids were starting to close when Damien sat beside her. Suddenly, they opened widely as she turned to him, concerned. "But Damien, I don't want to get you sick. That's the last thing I want to do. I'll just go sleep in the guest room so I don't contaminate your pillows." She began to get up, but Damien held her back.

"So you do admit it!" He grinned. Selene scoffed and playfully pushed him away. "But you're not getting rid of me that easily, and you're staying right here." Sitting her back down as he got up, he brushed her hair off her face and lightly kissed her nose, which responded with a sniffle. "Which drawer has your nightgowns and sleepwear again?"

She lazily gestured to a low level of their wardrobe and grumbled. "I don want to put any of that onn. I'm fine wiith teese."

Damien looked back toward the bed and pursed his lips, holding back a laugh. "Too bad. You're going to be comfortable if I can help it, so that means comfortable clothes."