You Have Me

Jonathan shakes his head, gently wrapping his arms around your waist.

"You shouldn't be walking," he says, tracing your face with his eyes. Your cheeks are still looking a little pink and brows scrunch down in obvious discomfort. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, skin warm to the touch but not nearly as hot as it had been earlier. It's not a surprise to see you up and about when you should be in bed resting. Lying around is meant for lazy days when you don't need to do anything. Not, apparently, for days when you're sick and hurting and definitely should be staying in bed.

You close your eyes and lean into the touch. He smiles against your forehead, pulling you into his chest. He hates that you're sick and in pain and that he can't do anything to take it away. But he can do this. He can hold you, rest his cheek on your hair and let you lean into him.

"Come on," he says, your hair moving with the words. He pulls back a little and cups the side of your face. "Let's get you back to bed."

"I can do it myself," you say and he smiles at you.

"You could," he agrees with a nod, guiding you back to the bed. You hadn't gotten far before he came back in, not quite to the door. Even moving slowly while you lean into him, it's only a matter of seconds before Jonathan is getting you settled into the mattress. "But you don't have to."

You can take care of yourself, and you do. But no one should have to be alone when they're sick. He remembers growing up, being stuck by himself because his mom couldn't get out of work and, when he was still around, Lonnie was an asshole who wasn't going to waste his time making sure his kid was okay. Jonathan has been sick alone so many times and he's not going to make you go through the same thing. Not when he can help it.

His sits down beside you, bed dipping under his weight. You roll a little with the movement so that your side is pressed into his leg. He takes one of your hands in his, resting the other gently on your stomach. Rubbing his thumb back and forth, he's relieved to see you looking more awake and aware than when you first got sick. The smile on your face is tired, but he thinks it's beautiful. You've got the best smile, in his opinion. He's honored that he gets to so often be the person causing it.

"You're still a little warm," he says, squeezing your hand. He brushes back some wisps of hair that stubbornly cling to your forehead. Your eyes sparkle in the light, no longer glassy, but focused on him. He can get lost in them, has so many times before, but there will be plenty of time for that later. "I'll be right back."

"Nooo," you whine with a brief pout. "Don't go."

"Shh," he whispers, kissing the back of your hand before letting it go. "I'm just going to get a cool cloth. Maybe some water. Are you hungry at all?"

You shake your head slowly. "No, just want you."

He smiles again, small and soft and the way he knows he only smiles for you.

"You have me," he promises.

Your eyes are closed when he comes back in, breath deep and slow. He watches you for a moment, the steady rise and fall of your chest, and can't believe he gets to be here. That you trust him to help take care of you. He's had people depend on him before; his mom and his brother and even his brother's friends. But this feels different, is different. He loves his family, and he knows they love him, but he chose this, you. And you chose him right back, to love him and take care of him when he's feeling as bad as you are now. And you know he'll do the same for you.

It's everything.

He tries not to let the bed dip too much when he sits back against the headboard. Your eyelids flutter anyway. Waiting until your eyes are open and focused on him, Jonathan leans down and kisses you. He keeps it short, but you're both smiling when he pulls back.

"This'll be a little cold," he says as he eases the wet cloth onto your forehead.

"Mmm, feels good," you say, turning your head just a little to lean it into his thigh. You hum again when his fingers make their way into your hair, nails scratching gently across your scalp.

"Go back to sleep," he whispers. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

With a sleepy smile, looking better than you have for days, you fall asleep.