Work Text:
It had been an especially long week. Reports of wanderers had exploded, and you and the team had been swamped with back to back missions, so much so that it became one of the few weeks where you were at home less than Zayne. Walking through the door, the energy that you stubbornly clung onto to make it through another day of hunting sunk away, leaving your body feeling heavy and sore. A shower would be heavenly right now. Shucking off your shoes, paying no mind to how they litter themselves across the floor, you make your way to the bathroom. On the way there you pass Zayne’s study, a monotonous clicking of a keyboard reverberating from behind the door. Clearly he’s still busy. As soon as you enter the bathroom, you feverishly peel your clothes off, the sweat of a hard day of hunting melding the fabric to your skin, as if your uniform was your skin itself. The water came on with a loud hiss, hot water wrapping itself around your overworked muscles, a sigh of relief escaped your mouth as you turned the temperature up more and leaned your head against the tiled wall. You don’t realise that you were falling asleep until you felt your body pushing against the cool glass shower screen. With no idea how long you’ve been in there, you decide to get to work on removing the day's grime. You bend down reaching for the body wash but as you grab it you feel your vision swim, a hand instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against the tiles, the warm water starting to feel blistering. You start half scrubbing yourself and half focusing on staying upright but you feel your breath sit heavier in your lungs and your vision is becoming more prickly and dark. Before you can do anything you feel the world tilt and your legs give way, slamming your mind into nothingness.
The next thing you notice is a quickened, serious voice and cool sturdy hands curling around you, a welcome sensation to your clammy, hot body as you feel yourself dive back into unconsciousness. Waking up again, the world feels distorted and nauseating causing you to groan in discomfort. A cool hand reaches out, fingers cupping the back of your head as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, and you realise that your head is on a soft lap; Zayne’s lap. You try to sit up but the hand pushes you back down, Zayne’s face now hovering over you, eyes creased in concern. “Don’t get up, you may faint again and hurt yourself”. His usually neat shirt was crumpled and damp and his hair was sodden, a few strands of wet hair carelessly falling in front of his eyes. “Does anything hurt?”, you shake your head gently, “A bit achy but nothing too bad”. This didn’t seem to be a good enough answer as Zayne reached into his pocket and procured a small light, turning it on and shining it into each of your eyes, his mouth flattening in concentration. “Well your pupils seem to be equal and responsive so thankfully it’s unlikely that you have a concussion, here” He helps you sit up slowly and grabs a towel, wrapping it securely around you. At this point the shock of it all is starting to wear off and you sag tiredly against Zayne’s chest, exhaustion causing you to prop your head on his shoulder and flutter your eyes. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy this week,” you try to meekly explain. His body stills, wanting to reprimand you, to remind you to take care of your health, and take a break from work, but he knows better than to be a hypocrite, as you’ve told him before, and so for now he just focuses on the tasks at hand. He sighs “I understand, just let me help you rest”. He readjusts his grip, one hand under your legs, and lifts you up bridal style, walking toward your bedroom.
He carefully places you on the bed, then picks out your favourite pyjamas from the wardrobe, warm and long sleeved with a snow bunny on the shirt, a gift from Zayne during your first winter together after complaining that you were too cold and that the human embodiment of an icicle was not in fact a sufficient heat source. After helping you get changed, he grabs the towel that once covered your body and begins softly rubbing your hair dry in circular motions, laying a gentle kiss on your forehead once he was satisfied. You feel your eyelids droop, your body finally allowed to rest. The bed dips and you feel yourself being shuffled, your head placed on Zayne’s chest, his heart singing you to sleep.