#anakain x reader comfort

[anilovie]

Anakin taking care of you when you’re sick.

WC: 1.5k

TW: mentions of throwing up but very brief and no descriptions.

You distinctly remember thinking to yourself — “I better not catch whatever this is” — as soon as the third youngling came into the medbay puking all over the place.

You wore gloves, washed your hands, put on a mask, even knocked on wood— yet you still woke up in the early hours of the morning to an excruciating cramping in your stomach, making you curl into yourself and roll around your bed until your dinner worked its way up your system and out into the toilet (that you thankfully reached just in time).

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so lousy. Being a medic, you knew how to take care of yourself and rarely ever got sick. Much less with a bad GI bug, one that kept you in bed and away from your duties without letting anyone know.

It was very unlike you to go radio silent; which is why Ahoksa thought it was strange that you hadn’t met her in the great hall that morning to go on your daily caf run, like you always do before the day truly begins.

She sought you out in your room, where the lights were still off and it smelled of sickness, and you were bundled in your blankets in the midst of a fitful sleep.

Too weak to get up, you croaked that you didn’t think you could get caf with her today, to which she was completely understanding of. She let you be, cracking a window open on the way out to let fresh air in.

Then promptly went straight to Anakin.

You stirred to the sound of the door opening not even an hour later, lifting your head enough to catch sight of a tall, familiar silhouette equipped with leather tabards, thick utility belt, and lightsaber hanging off the left hip. Something twisted in your stomach, a ball of nervousness rising in you as you realized Anakin had come to see you… alone.

You let your head fall back to the pillows, closing your eyes at the uncomfortable aching in your stomach. You felt the bed dip by your feet as Anakin perched on the edge, metal hand coming up to rest on your shoulder comfortingly.

“Not feeling so good, huh?” He spoke in a hushed voice, rasping in the low register. Despite the pain in your tummy, you preened at his proximity and innocent touch. You’d had the biggest crush on Anakin for quite some time now, but he didn’t know that.

You let out a disgruntled “Mmm” and curled in on yourself further, overtaken by a wave of nausea. Thankfully, you’d forced yourself into a shower after your third round of puking, which was somewhere between midnight and dawn. You were clean, but you’d also slept on wet hair, so you looked all messy.

“Ahsoka said you’ve been getting sick?” He tried to get some words out of you, thumb rubbing soothingly across your arm.

“‘Think I picked something up from the younglings,” you mumbled, face still half buried in your blankets. “You might not want to get too close.”

“How many times have you been sick?” He completely ignored your request.

You thought for a moment. “Three or four times. Haven’t had to in a couple hours though, so I think I’m getting better…”

“Show me where it hurts.”

He wasn’t asking, but his tone was so soft you couldn’t deny him. Plus, he’d come here for you.

You shifted around in bed, rolling onto your back so that you were now looking up at him, surrounded in a cocoon of blankets. You pushed them down to reveal your tummy, clad in your softest and warmest sweater.

“Just my stomach,” you refused to meet his eyes. “But it’s not so bad anymore. Just feel… icky.”

“Hm,” he hummed, eyes flicking up to your face before landing on the hands covering your stomach. You never forgot how handsome he was, but it still shocked you like a slap in the face whenever you were met with him head-on like this. Paired with that soft, raspy voice, the obvious concern in his eyes, and the fact that he’d come just for you— you wanted to melt into a puddle.

“Can I try something?” He spoke, and you lifted your gaze to his face warily. You trusted him, so you nodded your head.

He brought his hand — the flesh one this time— across your body and let it rest on your tummy gently. Just the one hand almost spanned your whole abdomen. You immediately squirmed your hips back, not expecting him to have touched you so brazenly. You and Anakin were friends… but you had yet to cross a line like this before.

You let his hand rest there, hoping he didn’t notice how squishy and bloated you were right now, and if he did, that he didn’t mind. Your hands were curled into fists, tucked under your chin as you peered down at his gentle touch on your tummy curiously, wondering what he was doing.

“Just like this,” he assured you when he saw your alarmed face. “How’s this feel?”

You focused on your stomach again, expecting to be met with that gross nauseous feeling that had been plaguing you for hours. It was still there, but now it was… dull. Muted, like he’d snuffed out the discomfort with a blanket.

Unable to help yourself, you brought your hands down to his, one hand closing over his wrist and the other fitting atop his outstretched hand, keeping him just where he was. “Feels better, Ani,” you sniffed, eyes fluttering closed as warmth from his touch seeped into your aching tummy, soothing it all away.

The corner of his lips pulled up slightly, but he didn’t say anything. Just kept the gentle pressure over your stomach with a little look of concentration on his face. Realizing he wasn’t going anywhere, you let yourself fully relax back into your blankets.

He thought you looked so cute — and slightly pathetic — at the way you melted back into the bed. Cheeks flushed with sickness, hair all messy, oversized sweater falling off your shoulder and over the hands grabbing at his own… he’d stay with you all day if he could. But alas, he had duties to attend to.

“This should last for about half an hour,” he spoke gently after a while. You groggily opened your eyes and frowned as he pulled his hand away, shivering at the loss of warmth and contact.

“Mkay,” you couldn’t keep the whine out of your voice, though you were too proud to complain. “Thanks, Anakin. Doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

“Good,” he cooed, this time with a full smile. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, eyes probing into your face as he scanned you over. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“Can’t. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it down.”

“What about something bland… like toast?”

“Mmm,” you crinkled your nose up at the thought, gloriously subdued nausea making it easier to relent. “Alright. But only with a little bit of butter, not a lot.”

“Got it,” that strand of hair seemed to capture his attention, because he kept running it through his fingers, his touch tickling your cheek. “And some tea?”

“Sure,” you squeezed out a grateful, sheepish smile. “With honey, please. Thank you.”

“‘Course,” Anakin leaned over, planting a quick kiss to your forehead. Your skin tingled where his soft lips made contact, eyes blown wide at the sweet action. “Coming right up.”

He left like he’d done nothing at all. Meanwhile, you were lifting your hand to trace your fingertips over the spot he’d just kissed, the phantom touch of his lips still lingering.

You huffed lightly, flustered, and turned onto your side to curl back into a ball. You buried your lovesick smile into your pillows, clutching your favorite stuffie to your chest as you listened to the distant sounds of Anakin clinking around in your kitchen.

It didn’t take long, but you’d still fallen half-asleep again by the time he returned. With the pain in your stomach temporarily dulled and the exhaustion weighing on you from your sleepless night, it was easy to pass out again. Anakin woke you with another gentle touch to your shoulder.

“I’ll leave it here for you when you’re ready to eat something,” his tone dropped to a whisper, not wanting to disturb you anymore. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll be back to check on you tonight.”

Your whole body filled with warmth at his words, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You nodded and blinked open your eyes, blearily regarding him from your blanket cocoon.

“Thank you, Ani,” you slurred sleepily, shivering as he let his flesh hand cup your cheek in an affectionate touch. He was just taking care of you. It didn’t mean what you wanted it to… but it was nice to pretend. “Have a good day. Be safe.”

He just huffed out a silent laugh and withdrew his hand. You were still smiling when you heard his bootsteps recede and your door close. You allowed yourself to fall back into a blissful slumber, head fuzzy with the remnants of his simple touches, clinging to the fact that he would be back later to see you.