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Her head was pounding, it was like someone was constantly swinging a sledgehammer into her forehead. The pain feeling like her eyes were about to pop out, or her brain was being torn apart. It wasn’t much help.
She’d returned from a mission that morning, Hobie picking up on her longer timing and her lack of strength. Her knees shook slightly under her weight.
Brushing off the Brits concerns she continued with her day. She avoided any smell of food, making her stomach churn at the small smell. Her eyes were hazy, occasionally walking into people accidentally.
Everywhere was so loud.
Her spider senses were all over the place, detecting things that weren’t even a threat to her and yet she still walked into people. What cruel joke was this.
Gwen removed herself from it all. Going to the roof of the building, sitting in the silence. She admired the silhouettes of the clouds, how the breeze made her cool down. Her senses had now calmed. But the pain in her head was still there.
“Gwen.” Oh that didn’t sound good. Their tone was harsh, brittle and angry, yet wasn’t a biting angry, more like an annoyed angry.
She turned and saw the towering figure, arms folded with a look of disapproval on their face.
Miguel.
He could see her skin, looking sickly pale. The dots of sweat on her forehead, and the way her eyelids drooped heavily upon her blue eyes. The way her legs shook softly with little to no weight on them.
He knelt down to her level placing the back of his hand on her forehead. Even with his suit on, he could feel the burning warmth of her skin. The blondes head practically fell into his hand heavily, as if it took great effort to keep it up
“Mierda.” He muttered under his breath, removing his hand. He opened a portal and lifted the girl into his arms. Gwens head lulled against his chest, trying to look up but to no avail.
He stepped through and placed her down, on what seemed to be a couch.
“Where am i?” She asked, throat painfully dry, her voice coming out as a sort of gravely sound.
The man returned with multiple things, she’d known what they are, but her hazy vision wasn’t helping.
“My apartment,” he responded, voice firm as usual, he was mad. It made Gwen’s stomach flip, and not on a good way.
“Open.” He ordered, Gwen opened her mouth, feeling the thermometer being placed under her tongue. She could feel the strong gaze of crimson eyes watching her. She frowned and turned her head away, only for a hand to gently cup her cheek and effortlessly move her face back.
A weak pout formed on her lips, hearing a gruff hum in reply. He then removed the thermometer from her mouth, reading the temperature.
“Dios mio.” Miguel whispered as he stood up.
The sound of a tap being turned on could be heard in the next room. Gwen had guessed she’d been put on the couch, her hand moving up the back of it.
Heavy footsteps then returned, and a damp cool cloth was placed on her forehead. The relief Gwen felt when the material wasn’t like any other, the headache she’d been fight for the last three hours had shrunk in a matter of seconds. It was still there but not to the extreme it was seconds before.
The sound of medicine bottles being open could be heard. Then being poured into a hand. Gwen then felt a coolness of a glass brush her knuckles, she then opened her hand to grab the glass. Miguel have it too her and then tucked his hand under the back of her head, allowing her to drink.
She felt little powdery pills being placed in her hand. Miguel let her keep some of her ego, and she was glad about it.
The cold water felt amazing for her sand paper throat, it was as if a dessert had been flooded with water. Gwen was now hydrating herself, which she so desperately needed.
There was now silence, apart from the noice Miguel made when putting things away, that was it.
The man soon returning, looking down at her. The medicine now taking effect, removing the haziness from her eyes.
“Are you mad?” Gwen asked him, anxious but also curious, the man’s face had become unreadable, which concerned her.
The latino looked down at her, brows knitted together.
“No not at all, I just happened to find you on the roof, with a fever, shaking uncontrollably, as you’re as pale as my white bathroom walls.” He responded voice slightly raised,
“So no I’m not mad at all.”
Gwen internally winced, and very tired from her body fighting the illness.
“I think you’re mad.” She replied to his outrage, sounding like a child.
Sounding so much like…her. No. Miguel stopped himself, he couldn’t get attached. He can’t get attached. Because if he did, it would feel like his heart got ripped out again if she had to go.
Miguel let out an aggravated sigh, getting annoyed at her now won’t change anything. Just look after her.
“Mig,” she called for him, like saying his full name was too much effort. Her hand searching for him. The latino raised an eyebrow and reached his arm out to meet hers, the blondes hand wrapping around one of his fingers. She pulled on it, wanting him to sit with her.
The man removed her hand from his finger and then lifted her up, sitting himself down her head resting on his thigh. Gwen seemed to let out a breath she was holding, closing her eyes.
Miguel let the frustration leave his eyes, the anger changing to softness, something abnormal on his scarlet eyes.
“Miguel, I’m sorry, for being sick.” She then spoke, leaning her head back to look at him.
“Don’t be mi vida, I’m just mad you didn’t tell me.” He accepted her apology, running a hand through her hair. She was sweaty he noted, he removed the cloth from her forehead, placing his hand back on it. Still warm.
His lips formed into a thin line, his brows furrowed in thought. Gwen felt guilt start to rise inside, she bet Hobie told him. He was the only possible one.
“How does a bath sound cariño?” He looked down at her, face now softening. Gwen thought for a moment, then gave a hum of agreement.
————-
Miguel swirled the water with his finger tips, not too cooled but not too warm either. Pouring in some bubbles, to help relax her. It was strawberry dented, the smell filling his nostrils.
Drying his hands, he walked out the bathroom. The girl turning her head to see his return, she looked happy to see him again. It’s just the medicine.
He picked her up, supporting her head and brought her to his bathroom. Gwen looked in the mirror, letting out a chuckle. Miguel hummed in question, his answer being.
“I am as white as your bathroom walls.” Quoting Miguel from earlier.
He saw the amusement on her face, she really was out of it. This Gwen was much more giddy and childlike, who knew being sick and on medication change someone.
Miguel placed her down walking to the door.
“I’ll bring you some clothes, I think Miles or Hobie is dropping some off. They’ll be outside the door when you’re ready.” He said about to close the door before he adds,
“Call if you need anything.”
With that the door closed, Miguel letting out a tired sigh. He moved into his living room, a portal then opening. Hobie walking through with Miles. He said one of them, not expecting both of them. He was surprised Hobie even listened, normal ignoring him was more his style.
Both holding bags.
“Hey Miguel, we got her a bunch of things, pjs, sweaters, blankets.” Miles listed, Miguel stopping him with a raised hand, silencing the boy. They dropped the bags on the table, asking if he needed any help, which he declined.
Both said their goodbyes and exited through the portal, after hearing about Gwens condition.
—————-
It was now the evening, Gwen was asleep in his bed, curled up in his covers like a little cat. She stretched out having much more room than her bed at home. Her blonde hair sprawled messily over the pillows.
Miguel gave her more medicine when the time was right, reading the back of the boxes multiple times so he didn’t mess it up. When placing the clothes outside the bathroom door he just placed both bags down, not sure of what she wanted to wear.
She’d chosen some comfy sweat pants and a baggy shirt, wanting to be comfortable in her sleep.
Miguel rested on the couch, reading a book, which he never got to do. It wasn’t the comfiest but it will suffice. He wanted her to get well as soon as possible, and if that meant sacrificing his bed, it meant just that.
His eyes had begun to her heavy after about two hours of reading, he decided to close his eyes, sleep slowly engulfing him in its clutches.
“Miguel… Miguel.. papá.” A hand shook his forearm, making him regain consciousness.
He awoke to soft blue eyes staring at him,
“Cariño? ¿Qué es?” He propped himself on his elbow, running his hand on the back of his neck.
When he realised what he asked, he repeated it in English,
“What is it?” Miguel mumbled, voice hoarse from sleeping.
“I don’t want to be alone.”
The latino looked up at her, now taking in her form. She looked away sheepishly, hands clenched at her sides, legs crossed. She looked ashamed for asking, as if he’d get mad for her asking such a caring thing.
He stood up, eyes still half lidded. Placing a hand on her back directing her to his room once again.
“I’ll stay.” He assured her, her climbing back into the bed as he got in on the other side.
He didn’t expect her to latch onto him, similar to a koala would a tree. He placed his arm around her, soon hearing her even breaths. He then closed his eyes, joining her in a peaceful sleep.