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You groaned, curling up tighter amidst your nest of blankets and pillows. Everything felt off. Your body ached all over, as if you had battled a hundred marines; your head specifically felt like a vice squeezed it from all sides while your stomach grumbled in discomfort. It was a miserable feeling, made worse by the disgusting sniffles and coughs you made and the fire erupting beneath your skin.
It was official. You were sick.
You were prepared to wake up and begin grumbling, but you stopped stirring and squirming when someone gently caressed your face. Starting at your hairline, the person stroked your forehead with a feather light touch of their knuckle, down the length of your scrunched nose. They repeated the action again and again, breathing a faint chuckle as your features relaxed.
“Easy, sweetheart. Go back to sleep. Your body needs it.” You recognized the warm tone as your lover’s immediately. Your captain kept his voice soft as he petted you adoringly. “Leave everything to me and Hongo, okay? You’ll be back on your feet and causing trouble before you know it, but until then, I want you to rest. Don’t worry about a thing.”
You managed to open your eyes just a smidgen, watching as the familiar sight of the ship’s infirmary came into focus. Shanks sat at your bedside, his chair pulled as close as it could get. The purplish rings beneath his eyes spoke of his overwhelming concern - he had probably stayed awake the whole night watching you - but he never let his smile fall. “Shanks…” you croaked weakly.
That same airy touch swept over each of your eyes, urging them closed. “Shhh, not now, love. You can tell me later. Sleep, captain’s orders. In a little bit, we can give you more medicine.” It dawned on you that you could hear the clinking and shuffling of a mortar and pestle in the background. Hongo was apparently nearby, but was choosing to give the two of you a moment of privacy.
“I’ll get something to eat then too,” Shanks continued. “I already asked Lucky to make you some soup… and before you start fretting or arguing, let me reassure you that Beck’s up on deck, keeping everything in order. They’ll manage just fine without me watching them.” Then, he leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “You’re safe here. Rest, and I promise we’ll hold a huge celebration once you’re feeling better.”
There was no way you could argue with him. Not when he was doing everything in his power to ease and distract you from your discomfort. So, you yielded, letting Shanks lull you gently back into your dreams.