january blue || josh kiszka x reader
Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist
Summary: You're sick, and Josh takes good care of you.
Pairings: Josh x Reader | Genre: fluff, h/c, sickfic | Word Count: 2k | Warnings: none!
A/N: Here's another one of those self-serving fics that I hope you like :) Also this is lowkey an ad for Netflix's “The Greatest Night in Pop” because that was a great documentary. Anyhoopla I hope you like it! ♡
“Sweet baby, when is your birthday again?”
You pulled your blank gaze from the waiting room wall, frowning a little as you looked over at Josh. It took you a second to think of a response; the fluorescents overhead were harsh, and everything seemed unnaturally bright under them. Josh held the pen poised and ready above the intake form, waiting for you to tell him your birthdate.
The uncomfortable vinyl chair creaked when you turned towards him. “You don't know my birthday?” you asked, unsure if you should be surprised by that. You were surprised, but you were also rather disoriented, so maybe it was a normal question for an attentive boyfriend to ask.
He cracked a smile, a welcome bit of tenderness in the cold, stark doctor’s office.
“I do,” he said. “I was only teasing.” He jotted it down along with your other details, taking care of the task for you as you sat in the waiting room together. It was sweet of him to do it and try to take your mind off things while he did, and it made the appointment seem a little less daunting.
“What are your symptoms?” he asked, writing down the ones he already knew. “Earache, sore throat, congestion?”
You nodded, covering your ear with your hand, careful of pressing too hard. “Dizziness, too. And a headache.”
“My poor baby,” he said sympathetically. He finished up the intake form. “Okay, honey. You’re all set.” He returned the clipboard to the front desk, taking your hand when he came back to sit next to you.
“What do you think?” he asked. His hair was a golden halo of soft curls, and it didn’t surprise you that even the awful atmosphere of the doctor’s office didn’t dim his warmth and cheerfulness. “Do you wanna read one of these magazines that have been here since the eighties? There’s probably some older ones if that sounds too modern.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’m okay, thanks.”
He smiled. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”
He pulled out his phone to answer a text from Danny; you rested your head on his shoulder, trying to ignore the persistent ache and the vaguely panicky feeling you always got at the doctor.
Josh gave you a quick smooch on your forehead. You smiled.
“What was that for?” you asked.
“Danny said to give you a get-well kiss,” he said. “So there you go.”
You cuddled closer to him. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Of course, baby.” He pocketed his phone. “Thanks for asking me. I would have been sad to find out you went without me.”
You raised your head to look at him, a bemused smile crossing your face. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I know you don’t like the doctor, and I like to be with you for things that make you nervous, if I can. I’m glad you know you can ask me for help.”
Your smile was wobbly, then. “Aw, Joshy. I love you, you know.”
He gave you a sweet smile. “I love you too, baby. Hopefully we’ll be in and out, and then we can spend the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch. Sound good?”
“Sounds wonderful,” you said with a sigh.
You lost track of time in the waiting room, sucked into the weird vortex of discomfort and the smell of antiseptic, but eventually your name was called. Josh went with you, and though you might have felt a little embarrassed to be a grown woman with a personal escort to the doctor, you just didn’t have the energy to care. Besides, there was nothing wrong with having Josh with you, and you were glad you didn’t have to do it alone.
He waited patiently while you got your vitals checked, making jokes about your pulse being a little high with white coat syndrome. When the nurse left you alone in the room again, he gave you a thumbs up.
“You’re doing great, baby,” he said with a sweet smile. “I bet you’re the best patient they’ve had all day.”
“I do my best,” you said. You fidgeted on the table, the paper crinkling under you. “Can we get coffee after this?”
“Sure, honey. Whatever you want.”
You gave him a teasing smile. “Whatever I want, huh? Could you strip naked right now and do the hula for me?”
He laughed, and the warm sound of it took the edge off the chill of the sterile room.
“Maybe not whatever you want,” he corrected. He stood and came over to the exam table, giving your thigh a comforting pat. “But I think I can handle coffee.”
You winced and tilted your head as you felt a sharp pain go from your ear all the way down your neck. Josh gently covered the spot with his warm hand, and you leaned into his touch.
“There’s this new documentary on Netflix,” you said, trying to distract yourself from the ache. “About the night they got the supergroup together for ‘We Are The World’.”
“I saw the trailer,” he agreed. He slowly ran his fingers over your fevered skin. “You want to watch that when we get home?”
“Sure. We can make a roster of who should be in the next version with you guys.”
He smiled. “Okay, baby. I’d like that.” A sympathetic frown tugged at his features when you grimaced again.
“I'm sorry you don't feel good, honey,” he said. “I know a jacked up ear isn't very fun.”
You breathed a laugh. “I shouldn't complain. Your whole eardrum exploded, so mine’s easy in comparison.”
He chuckled. “Are we in a competition for worst ear injury? That's kinda weird, even for us.”
You leaned your head against his, thankful for the way he comforted you and made you smile without even trying.
He pulled back when the door handle turned, and gave your hand a squeeze before he took his seat again. The doctor gave you a quick exam, confirming an ear infection secondary to a sinus infection, and prescribed you a round of antibiotics.
Josh got you squared away at the desk before you left, and you were content to let him do the talking as the pain started to catch up with you. He led you out to the car, getting you settled in the passenger seat before he got in himself.
“Still feel up for coffee?” he asked.
You curled up in a pitiful little ball. “Yes, please. But maybe I’ll get the Medicine Ball instead.”
He kept one hand on your thigh as he drove, and you half dozed with your hands wrapped around the wonderfully warm Starbucks cup. He ran into the store to pick up your prescription and a few other things, and though he’d promised to be quick, he was gone longer than you’d expected.
“Where did you go?” you said, an irritated, petulant tone creeping into your voice. “The Bermuda Triangle?”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he said sincerely, putting the bags in the back of the Jeep. “The pharmacy line was super long. I guess I should have taken you home and come back out for your medicine.”
You softened, feeling a little guilty. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be grumpy with you when you're running around doing everything for me.”
He touched a hand to your cheek. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. I know you don't feel good. I understand if you’re grumpy.”
You held his hand and kept it pressed to your cheek for a moment. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, baby. Let’s get you home, okay?”
At home, he got your medicine and some painkillers into you before he ran you a bath. He sat on the edge of the tub, brushing your hair back from your face.
“I think you’ll feel better if you have a nap, baby,” he said, keeping his voice quiet. “Do you want to eat something before you lay down?”
You shook your head. “I don’t really have an appetite.”
“I understand. I’d like you to try and eat a little something, though, just so the medicine doesn't make you sick. How about some soup?”
You looked up at him. “Can you do the spinach and rice one Jake makes?”
He nodded slowly. “Uh... yes. I think so.” You laughed when he pulled out his phone to ask his brother for the recipe.
He pressed a kiss to your hair. “Let me go get it cooking,” he said. “You enjoy your bath.”
You gratefully sank into the warm water, letting it soothe your aches until you felt all jellied and tired. Still, you were reaching the edge of your tolerance for the consistent pain; you knew the Tylenol had to be kicking in soon, but until it did, you were steadily getting more outdone with feeling so miserable. You hardly spoke when Josh came to help you out and brought you warm pajamas, and he watched you with worry as he steered you to the couch.
You winced when the pain spiked suddenly. “Oh my god, ow.”
Josh pulled back from you. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
“No. My stupid ear.” You gingerly pressed your hand to it, close to tears with frustration and discomfort. You looked pitifully up at him. “It hurts, Joshy.”
“I know, baby,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”
You shook your head, unable to think of anything, even if there was anything he could do. He just pulled you close and held you in a safe, steady hug, and it was exactly what you needed.
“My sweet baby,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting.”
A few tears spilled over, and you buried your face against his chest.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said in a small voice.
“Honey,” he soothed. “You’re welcome. You don't have to thank me. I wish I could do more to help.”
You hugged him tighter, resting in his warmth and closeness. “You’re perfect, Josh.”
He rested his head against yours and rocked you gently. “I love you, my sweet girl.”
When the uptick in pain finally subsided, maybe because the medicine had finally kicked in, you let yourself be settled on the couch in a nest of pillows. Josh covered you with every fuzzy blanket he could find until you were practically buried in them.
“Joshy,” you giggled.
He smiled. “There’s that sweet laugh,” he said tenderly. “I missed it. What’s got you so tickled?”
You tried to lift your arms under the blankets. “I’m gonna be trapped in here.”
He chuckled. “It’s my master plan. Keep you wrapped up in blankets so you can never escape me.”
“I don’t want to escape you.”
“Just making sure.” He held your face in his hands and gave you kiss after kiss after kiss, each one sweet and gentle and joyful. “I love you very much, you know.”
You gave him a bashful smile. “Yeah, I know.”
You had dinner — Josh had replicated Jake’s recipe perfectly, which he insisted was thanks to his twin’s detailed instructions — and watched the documentary about the recording of ‘We Are The World’. The two of you spent a while listing people you wanted in your supergroup to play with Greta Van Fleet.
“I want Noah Kahan and Gregory Alan Isakov,” you said.
Josh nodded sagely. “I see the vision. We should get Labi Siffre too.”
“Can we go back in time and get John Denver?” you asked.
He smiled. “Yes. I’m making that executive decision. Because I want to grab the original lineup of Fairport Convention.”
“So... we’re doing a folk rock version, then?”
He hummed in agreement. “And we make friends with everybody, and it’s the number one single in the world, and it’s your favorite song that we’ve ever done.”
You laughed and cuddled against him when he pulled you close.
He ran his hand up and down your arm. “I'm glad you’re feeling a little better, honey.”
You gave a contented sigh. “Me too.”
It had started to rain when you got home, and there was still a gentle, steady drumbeat on the roof that matched the hazy blue wash against your windows. Josh held you close and told you about what they’d worked on in the studio, and before long, the warmth of his voice and the sound of the rain worked as surely as a lullaby to pull you towards sleep.
Josh brushed his thumb over your cheek. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he said softly.
You tilted your face up for a kiss, and he obliged you. He was all love and gentleness and warmth, as he always was, and you melted into his touch.
“You love me lots, don’t you?” you asked.
“Yes, baby. Lots and lots.”
“Oh good,” you said, cosy and sleepy and content in the safety of his arms. “I love you lots too.”
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