Work Text:
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Rumi is the first to fall victim.
It’s a gray, cloudy morning outside, and weak sunlight filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Huntrix tower. Zoey is perched at the kitchen island, absently chewing on a fingernail while scribbling madly in a notebook. Mira is draped across one of the couches, eyes fixed to the TV as she plays Call of Duty.
The first sign should have been the fact that Rumi slept in. Rumi never sleeps in, unless she’s sick or absolutely exhausted – or both.
This morning, she shuffles into the kitchen much later than usual, her hair a mess and a handful of tissues pressed to her nose.
“Morning,” she sniffles, sounding thoroughly congested, then promptly sneezes several times in quick succession.
Zoey and Mira immediately exchange a look from across the room, both of them rising from their seats. Here we go.
“Rumi-ya,” Zoey pouts, coming over to her girlfriend and kissing her cheek. She puts a hand on her forehead. “You’re sick?”
“No, I think it’s allergies,” Rumi squints, rubbing at her watery eyes with a fist. She gives a cough into the sleeve of her hoodie that definitely does not sound like allergies to Zoey.
“Babe, you’re a walking plague,” Mira says with a roll of her eyes, but her hands on Rumi’s shoulders are gentle. She turns the slightly shorter girl around, marching her straight back to the bedroom. “Bed, jagi. Now.”
“I don’t need to go to bed –”
“You barely have a voice, babe. That means you go back to bed,” Zoey sing-songs, rubbing Rumi’s back. “Remember the sick-day rules?”
“I never actually agreed to those rules,” Rumi protests, huffing when Mira gently pushes her to sit down on their giant king bed. “You two just insist on them.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you need it, Ru.” Mira’s voice is somewhere between exasperated and fond. “When you get all hoarse like this it means rest, no exception. And the coughing, sneezing, and that fever you definitely have earns you total bedrest. Lucky you. I know you love resting.” Mira flashes Rumi a smirk, as she helps her get settled in bed and covered with blankets.
“Ooh, I did find this new soup recipe the other day!” Zoey exclaims, clapping her hands together and bouncing on her toes. “It’s supposed to be super good for you, packed with antioxidants and stuff. I saw it on Tiktok. I could make it for you, Rumi-ya!”
Rumi makes a face, coughing. “Babe…maybe not today?” She grimaces, but her voice is kind. “I dunno if I’m really in the mood for Tiktok soup right now.”
“Yeah, no experiments today, Zo,” Mira chuckles, kissing the top of Zoey’s hair. “We’re trying to make her better, remember?”
Zoey pouts, but flops down into bed beside Rumi anyway, wrapping her arms around her. “You guys make fun of me, but that essential oil really did cure my headache that one time!”
Mira snorts fondly, sitting down on Rumi’s other side and stroking her long fingers through her loose lavender-colored hair. “Or it could have been the ibuprofen Ru gave you.”
“The oil helped first.”
The friendly debate is interrupted when Rumi sneezes again, sounding miserable. Zoey and Mira reach for the tissue box at the same time, but Mira’s arms are longer so she’s able to grab it first with a triumphant smirk. She offers it to Rumi, who plucks several out with a disgruntled look on her face.
“I still think it could be allergies,” Rumi protests half-heartedly, after she blows her nose. “I’ll be fine to just get a few things done, maybe –”
“Nope.” Zoey tucks the covers tighter around Rumi, almost as if she’s trying to keep her from escaping the bed. Rumi suppresses the urge to sigh. “You’re sick and you’re gonna let us take care of you.”
“Yeah, sorry Ru, we know all your tricks by now.” Mira tucks some of Rumi’s long hair behind her ear and presses a featherlight kiss to her temple. “It’s not ‘allergies’ and you’re not ‘fine’ and we’re not going to let you get ‘a couple things’ done.”
“You’re going to rest, and sleep and let us feed you soup,” Zoey grins, tightening her arms around Rumi. “And maybe watch a Disney movie.”
Rumi sighs softly, slumping down against the pillows with a small cough. She crosses her arms, looking resigned to her fate. “Fine. If you guys insist.”
“We do,” Mira affirms, laying down next to Rumi, sandwiching the sick girl between her and Zoey. “Cause we love you, believe it or not.”
Rumi ducks her head, cheeks pink. “I – um…thanks.”
“Course, cutie,” Zoey smiles, snuggling up closer to her girlfriend. “Now, who wants to see some turtle videos?”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Zoey goes down next.
It’s the next day, and Rumi is still miserably sick. Zoey and Mira insist on another day of bedrest and soup, and Rumi doesn’t even try to fight them this time, which they know means she feels terrible. So they cancel all their work plans – to Bobby’s slight horror – and spend the day cuddling their sick girlfriend back to health.
In the afternoon, Mira begins to realize something’s off. Zoey hasn’t said anything in at least an hour which is practically unheard of. And now that Mira thinks of it, Zoey hasn’t even offered to show them any cute animal videos all afternoon. Instead, she’s just been clinging to Rumi, her head pillowed on the sick girl’s chest while an animated film plays on the TV.
Mira props herself up on an elbow so she can get a better look at her girlfriends. Rum is dozing, snoring softly through her stuffy nose. On Rumi’s other side, Zoey is awake but seems zoned out, her eyes glassy as she stares at the tv.
“Hey, you,” Mira says, her voice soft. She shifts closer to Zoey, tenderly brushing dark strands out of her eyes. “You okay, baby?”
Zoey hums absently, not lifting her head from Rumi’s chest. “‘m sleepy.”
“Yeah?” Mira touches the backs of her fingers to Zoey’s cheek, then swears quietly. “You’ve got a fever, Zo-Zo.”
“No I don’t,” Zoey’s face scrunches up in confusion and she presses her own hand to her cheek. “I’m just warm cause I’ve been cuddling Ru.”
Mira raises an eyebrow. “Does your throat hurt?”
Zoey gives an experimental swallow, then grimaces. “Maybe a little.”
“And does your nose feel stuffy?”
Zoey tries to take a deep breath through her nose but only manages a small, kitten-like sneeze instead. “Uh oh.”
Mira smiles fondly, kissing Zoey’s forehead. “Bless you, jagiya. I’ll get the meds.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Mira knew she didn’t stand a chance.
Between Rumi’s bad cough, Zoey’s sneezing fits, and the amount of tissues she’s accidentally touched, there was no way she was going to escape this cold unscathed.
But she is proud of the fact that she makes it to day four, at least.
Rumi is finally on the mend, her fever having broken the previous night, leaving her only with a lingering cough and some congestion. Zoey is still down for the count, buried under a mountain of blankets in their bed with only a few tufts of black hair sticking out the top.
Normally, Mira would be complaining loudly and often to her girlfriends about her increasingly scratchy throat and itchy nose. She hates getting sick, and suffice to say she can tend to be a little dramatic about it. But with both Rumi and Zoey under the weather, Mira has been too busy taking care of them to really dwell on how she herself is feeling.
But sharp-eyed Rumi misses nothing, especially now that she’s finally escaped bedrest. She finds Mira in the kitchen pouring a glass of orange juice for Zoey and corners her. Rumi’s hands are on her hips and her eyes narrowed.
“I heard you sniffling last night,” Rumi says, giving Mira a penetrating look. “Are you getting sick?”
“Hello to you too, Ru,” Mira drawls, rolling her eyes. “How’re you feeling?”
“Well enough to know when you’re deflecting.” Rumi reaches a hand out and gently cups Mira’s jaw, running her thumb over her cheek. “You look pale, babe.”
Mira melts into her girlfriend’s touch immediately, her eyes fluttering shut. “My throat hurts,” she admits, with a pout. “And my head, and my eyes, and just – ugh, everything.”
Rumi gives her a sympathetic look, brushing a soft kiss to her lips. “You need to rest. You’ve been taking care of both of us for days. C’mon sweetheart, bed – I’ll bring you some soup.”
Mira lets herself be led back toward the bedroom without much protest. She does feel rather achy and shivery after all, and burrowing under the soft covers sounds amazing.
Rumi gently tucks Mira into bed, and Zoey turns over and immediately clings to her side, fever-warm and sleepy. Rumi leans down and gives each of them matching kisses on their foreheads.
Mira reaches out for Rumi’s hand and tugs her closer. “Come sleep too, Rumi. You’re still recovering.”
Rumi’s chocolate-brown eyes crinkle at the corners with a warm smile. “Okay, jagi.” She slides into bed, so that Mira is now the designated one in the middle between the three of them, held warmly on both sides.
“Love you,” Mira hums, her eyes already falling shut. “Both of you.”
“We love you too,” Rumi echoes, tightening her arms around the taller girl and burying her face in her soft pink hair.
“More than turtles,” Zoey adds sleepily, nuzzling in closer.
Rumi and Mira share a quiet chuckle, and soon enough, they’re all asleep.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁