Dimitri words carry to her in the kitchen and Rose doesn’t bother respond as she casually hums moving about the kitchen. First she sets to searching the cabinets pulling down any sort of canned and microwavable food that she knows Dimitri might actually consider eating at some point during their day. Next she is moving towards the fridge and ruffling about in there. One of the few things she knew about being sick was that you had to stay hydrated or else you’d never get better.
Pulling free a light blue gatorade she studies it for a moment. “Does this even hydrate you?” She mutters aloud turning it over in her hands so she can read the back. Theres a list of information and most of it seems useless but the commercials she use to watch swore they’d give energy to the body and help rehydrate so with a shrug she tosses it on the counter.
“Hey babe do you have a like hand towel I could use—wait never mind I just found one!” She calls back completely ignoring his response of her working. One of the awesome parts of working for your best friend unlimited sick days or even just vacation days, not that Rose ever took one but still.
Snagging the Gatorade off the counter Rose struts back into the room where Dimitri is now lounged on the bed. “Is it wrong I think you look adorable even though you’re sick” She asks placing the drink on his bedside table. “That should help with like things and I brought you this, if I put it on your head it should help with your fever plus head rushes.” She explains carefully laying the warm towel over his forehead.
"In the kindest way possible looking at you like this there is no way I’d believe you could kick my ass.” It wasn’t until recently that Rose had finally come to terms with the fact that Dimitri would always be able to hand her ass to her, which kind of sucked. But at least she was no longer in denial. “Seriously though.”
Unbuttoning her pants she wiggles out of them and allows them to drop to the floor before she’s crawling over his exhausted body and onto her side of the bed. “So I’m thinking movies, cuddling and soup day for you comrade.”
Heat radiated from his skin, fever very obviously already coursing through his body. Therefore, the warm towel was not appreciated as much as it should. However, he held his tongue and let her speak. Her voice was a little loud to his sensitive ears and building headache, but he didn’t want to shush her; there was something comforting, soothing really, about the stream of words. Heavy eyelids refused to stay up while her words were said in a language he barely understood. Some stood out clearer than others.
It was when he felt the bed move under her weight and stray locks tickling his nose that he opened his eyes. He was just in time to see her settle beside him. A sudden need to hold her close hit him, and so a heavy, heavy arm was laid across her waist. Its strength was nonexistent, though, and it proved itself impossible to pull her closer. Instead of moving her, he moved himself. With an unhappy grunt, he rolled to his side, and was close enough to bury his face in her hair.
Even though his nose was halfway blocked, he could clearly smell his shampoo. Her bottle had been emp- tied a couple of days ago. Clearly, she had not bothe- red. And beyond the change of shampoo, he could sense something that was just her. Whether it was a perfume or her skin, it always followed her. It smelled like h o m e, like safety. He sighed contentedly.
”Sounds good,“ was finally mumbled through locks of bistre. "You zound like you haff a lot of experienze viff zick days.” Lazy lips gave up on trying to hold onto an understandable way of speaking English, and hoped that she could code accents.
Under the soft covers, a calloused hand caressed her hip. Fingertips played with the hem of her shirt, tangling themselves into the fabric in order to keep the Russian awake. Although her skin was warm in any other sense, it felt like ice against his burning touch. He hoped his scalding heat wouldn’t scare her away; he rather liked lying like this.
