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“Your fever hasn’t broken.”
It was a statement, not a question, and for some reason it grated on Sylvain’s nerves more than it should. Of course his fever hasn’t broken yet— he was hot, sticky, and felt as if he could feel every thread in the thin linen Felix had tucked around his body. So, yes, his fever was very much still raging. But Sylvain knew Felix was just worried, and his irritation was just a product of his discomfort, so he simmered down and cracked open a single eye as a gentle hand replaced the now-warm damp rag on his forehead with a cool one. Sylvain puffed out an appreciative and relieved sigh, sinking into their mattress.
“You know, I really shouldn’t have complained about heats when I was younger,” the Omega muttered, though his lips quirked up into a tiny, wry smile as he met Felix’s sharp eyes with glassy ones of his own. His mate quirked a brow. “They were much more fun than this. I just feel... gross. I mean, I’m not even horny.”
That got a snort out of Felix, though the man’s face was still neutral— that is to say, he held the expression of someone mildly irritated, but because it was Felix, it was neutral. “I know,” Felix said quietly, the same way a mother might soothe her worried child, though his tone was harder. Sylvain caught the true meaning behind it thanks to decades spent at his mate’s side. Felix’s eyes flicked downwards, to the way Sylvain shifted beneath his blanket, and he pursed his lips. “Do you think this may be the last?” he asked then, brows furrowed ever so slightly. Over the years, he’d developed creases between his brows from all his grimacing; he’d also developed faint laugh lines, much to Sylvain’s delight.
“Maybe. I really can’t tell. What I can tell is this is the worst one yet.” Sylvain’s little smile morphed into a grimace as another wave of heat washed through his body, leaving an almost white-hot sensation in his wake followed by sweat.
Heats were never a pleasant experience, but as an omega aged, their heats became less mild and simple. They slowly progressed into something more worthy of a week spent in bed, turning into hot flashes and aches and discomfort— the mind still grew hazy, but the desire was mostly chased away by the discomfort. Sylvain’s scent was still sickly sweet, tinged bitter with the ache in his bones and his own frustration. He’d been too weak to make a nest, so Felix had taken it upon himself, surrounding his ailing mate with all manners of pillows, blankets, and odd articles of clothing before scenting him and pressing as kiss to his forehead as Sylvain slept (or so he thought).
Shifting, Sylvain could feel slick between his thighs, but instead of drawing a whine from his throat as it would have when he was 20 and younger and a little more spry, it only made him screw up his nose in distaste. Felix’s intelligent eyes tracked his every movement, and decades at his side had him reading Sylvain’s every thought.
“I’ll draw you a bath. Don’t move,” the alpha commanded, standing and making his way to the washroom in a graceful blur of long, indigo hair. His bare feet padded on the floor, and Sylvain knew it had to be cold— when he’d peered out the window upon waking in the mid afternoon, fat snowflakes were falling outside with a vigor that told him they wouldn’t be stopping any time soon.
A few moments later, Sylvain heard the water begin to run from the faucet and collect in the tub. The tub. It was so far away to his heat-addled brain, but the thought of being enveloped in cool water made his heart sing. He could do it. Anything to have even a moment’s relief of this damned heat. His eyes must have fluttered closed for a minute or two, as he startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Bleary eyes blinked open to meet those of his spouse, and he cracked a warm smile that made Felix’s eyes soften. Sylvain loved it when Felix grew soft for him.
“The water should be cool enough for you. Can you sit up? No, don’t.” The Omega laughed weakly as Felix fretted over him, hands flitting over his body in an attempt to find the best way to lift him.
“I won’t explode into a million pieces if I try to sit up, Felix,” Sylvain teased playfully, earning himself a scowl lacking any heat from his mate.
“I don’t want you to strain yourself. You look like shit,” the Alpha retorted eloquently.
“Huh. Thanks.”
Felix’s lips quirked into the tiniest of smiles, and Sylvain felt his heart soar for the second time in five minutes.
Felix slipped an arm behind Sylvain’s back and curled a hand around his ribs, right under his arm. Sylvain would be embarrassed by Felix sticking his hand directly into his sweaty armpit if they hadn’t already seen everything there is to see about each other’s bodies. “Here. I’m lifting you.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” Sylvain replied with a yawn as Felix helped him sit up, then maneuvered him off of the bed and into a standing position. Felix was still a good five inches shorter than Sylvain, and about half as broad, but he still supported the man’s weight as if he weighed as much as a piece of parchment. “Oh, Felix,” Sylvain began dreamily, pretending to swoon. He sagged a little in Felix’s arms, causing the man to swear. “You’re so strong...”
“I could drop you,” Felix threatened, and Sylvain grinned, knowing full well Felix would never follow through.
“You love me too much.”
Silence, then; “I do.”
Sylvain’s heart soared.
Now that he was pressed flush against his mate, he could pick up on his scent without having to take a deep breath that would sicken him with too much of his own cloying scent. Felix’s scent was more appealing than usual for obvious reasons— it was sweeter, muskier, more alluring, and it made Sylvain wish that he felt anything more than sticky discomfort so he could drag Felix back to their bed, but... he didn’t. Sylvain bit his lip, casting his eyes downward.
“You’re moping,” Felix stated. Another not-question. Sylvain sighed.
“I just... I feel worthless.” It had taken Sylvain close to a decade to be able to express himself fully. Every day it came easier, but sometimes it still made him sick to his stomach. Today, it seemed, was one of those days. Felix couldn’t turn his head to face him at this proximity lest he crash his nose into Sylvain’s jaw, but he tightened his hold around his mate and tilted his head toward Sylvain’s. From the corner of his eye, Sylvain could see a few strands of silver hair at Felix’s hairline. “I wish I could do more— feel more. Like I used to.”
“You aren’t worthless to me, Sylvain. This heat doesn’t define you,” Felix began softly, and Sylvain had no choice but to listen. “I know you don’t like what it makes of your body and your mind— you’re like an open book to me— but... You are much more than just that. First of all, you can make better stew than I can.”
“Is that what I’ve been smelling cooking all afternoon?” Sylvain asked with a little smile, and he could feel Felix’s cheeks heat up.
“Shut up.” And then, in a quieter voice. “Yes. Second of all, you could go the rest of your life without touching me and I wouldn’t think any less of you. I love you. And don’t try to argue with me, because I’m not changing my mind.”
Sylvain began to laugh, softly and weakly, and as they entered the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His hair, still ginger, had grayed a bit around the edges. His beard matches it, with a few flecks of silver here and there. His eyes were hazy, his face flushed, but he was still Sylvain. He recognized the man looking back, and he had to admit, he was proud of him. He’d come a long way from the scrawny, self destructive boy he’d been even after the war. He was mature, more self assured, and yes, still an omega, but... he was proud.
“I guess you’re right, huh?”
“I’m always right.”
Felix helped Sylvain undress, which consisted of taking off the smallclothes that made up the only article of clothing he wore. He could feel them stick to his thighs with the slick that had accumulated there, and he winced. Felix, unfazed, slipped the article from his legs and tossed it haphazardly into a basket by the sink. As he stood, Sylvain flashed him a grateful smile that earned him a gentle kiss.
“Thank you,” he said softly, and Felix shook his head.
“I do this because I love you. Don’t thank me again.”
Sylvain chuckled, shaking his head. “Got it. And I love you, too.”
“I know.”
Felix lowered Sylvain into the water, and Sylvain couldn’t help but sigh as it cooled his skin.
“Is it cool enough?”
“It’s perfect,” Sylvain moaned.
Felix rolled his eyes and began to lave Sylvain’s arms with cool water and a bit of soap that smelled faintly floral. After his arms came his hair, which Felix washed with just as much care and gentleness. His torso came next, then his legs, and finally Felix allowed Sylvain to enjoy the cool water while he dried off his arms. It felt like heaven. The water seemed to suck the heat from his very bones, leaving soothing coolness in its wake. Felix’s hands didn’t feel overstimulating, either— they felt calming and familiar. It drew the tension straight from Sylvain’s shoulders, and he found himself relaxing into the tub until the water crept up to his neck.
“Do you feel any better?” Felix queried, turning his attention back to Sylvain and dipping a finger into the water to test its temperature. It had warmed closer to room temperature since cooking Sylvain’s feverish body, and he was ready to return to bed.
“Yeah, much,” he replied. “I don’t feel like a gross, sweaty hermit anymore.”
Felix’s lips quirked briefly. “The stew should be ready soon. Hungry enough?”
“Surprisingly, yeah,” Sylvain replied. He was honestly shocked Felix had actually gone to the trouble of making a whole stew alone when they both knew the Alpha couldn’t cook to save his life. It warmed his heart, even if he knew realistically that he’d be lucky if the stew was edible.
Felix fetched Sylvain a fresh pair of smallclothes and a towel, helping him out of the tub and drying him off before slipping his smallclothes on. “I’ll get you a bowl of stew. It’s vegetables and beef I bought from town this morning while you were sleeping.”
“You went all the way to town in this snow?” Sylvain’s head whipped around, nearly causing him to lose his balance, and stared incredulously at Felix. His mate stood resolute, though Sylvain could see his cheeks color.
“You were miserable. I couldn’t just sit around.”
“What if you got stranded? What if you got stuck in the snow?”
“You of all people should know I’ve been through much worse than some snow.”
“I know,” Sylvain sighed as he was lowered into bed. “But it’s been years since you were on the road, Felix. Since the war. We’ve changed.”
“We have,” Felix agreed, “but not enough so that a little snow would stop me from taking care of my stubborn mate. I’m going to get you a bowl of stew.”
Sylvain sighed heavily but acquiesced, allowing Felix to tuck him back in and place a rag back on his forehead. “You take such good care of me anyway, Felix. You don’t need to die in a snow storm for some beef for me.”
“I wasn’t going to die in a snowstorm for some beef, Sylvain,” Felix replied, but this time there was mirth in his tone. Sylvain rolled his eyes and watched as the Alpha spun on his heel and left for the kitchen. The Omega relaxed back into his pillows, taking in the lingering scent of Felix all around him. He felt a lot better than he did before his bath— he was a lot less hot, a lot less sweaty, and the pool of sticky slick serving as a constant reminder of what he’d rather forget was all but gone. He could probably take a nap like this... but he was hungry. He’d take a few nibbles of Felix’s stew— he could manage that, right? He chided himself mentally for having such little faith in his husband’s cooking skills. He should give him a chance. What if it was delicious?
Felix came back shortly with full bowl of steaming stew in hand, setting a wooden tray in Sylvain’s lap with the other. Sylvain slowly sat up, watching Felix set the bowl down and staring at its contents; an unidentifiable gray mixture with... chunks.
“I forgot your water,” Felix stated simply before taking off back toward the kitchen.
Okay, Sylvain, he coached himself. You have about thirty seconds to either scarf down this soup, take a few bites and pretend to feel too bad to finish it, or run to the bathroom and dump a little down the drain so it looks like you ate some.
Sylvain decided it would probably be safest to do the first option lest Felix see right through his lie and/or find him sprawled out on the bedroom floor. He picked up his spoon, fished around in the dubious liquid, reminded himself that he loved his husband, and dove in. About three huge scoops in and Sylvain started to feel queasy— how could something be burnt and undercooked all at once? It was somehow simultaneously too salty and too bland... but Sylvain loved his husband, and his husband loved him back. This stew was made with love... love cant cook vegetables, but it sure as hell can make Sylvain finish his stew, dammit. And so he did. And when Felix came back with a glass of water to find that bowl completely empty, his amber eyes blew wide and flicked to Sylvain, who only grinned lazily.
“Was it... good?”
The hesitance and genuine surprise in Felix’s voice made Sylvain feel sicker than the strange stew or his heat did, but he swallowed it down to nod and soften his smile. “Thank you, Felix. That was really thoughtful of you, you know?”
Flustered, Felix stammered and scrubbed at the back of his neck, eyes flitting away. “W-Well... it’s my job to take care of you. And I wanted to. So.”
“My big strong Alpha,” Sylvain cooed, lifting his arms and making grabby hands for his mate. Felix narrowed his eyes but shuffled toward his Omega, setting the water down and crawling onto their bed to fall into Sylvain’s arms.
“You’re bigger than me,” Felix mumbled into Sylvain’s bicep.
“Doesn’t mean you cant still be my big, strong Alpha.” Sylvain laughed as Felix muttered against his skin, shifting in his arms. “Lay with me?”
Felix picked his head up, sighing though his lips betrayed his smile. “Of course.”
And so the Alpha settled next to his Omega, both of them wrapped in each other’s arms and taking in their comforting, familiar scents.
This heat wasn’t so bad after all...