#lowkey not my finest work bc the stress has been real lately but i was going for more fluff and fun vibes so hopefully i managed idk

[sehtoast]

Nyquil and Bribery (Depowered Homelander x OC Sickfic) All of You is Left to Love ch10

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: No plot, just sickfic fun. Nyquil is gross.

Warnings: None.

Fic Directory

Misery.

This was pure fucking misery.

"You're not dying, Johnny."

And that has to be a lie.

But surely it couldn't feel this bad, right? All of his life, seeing the roaches around him with their little ailments– their sniffles and sneezes, their disgusting coughs– convinced with every fiber of his being that they were being dramatic.

So he must be dying. That's the only thing that made sense with every violent cough that rattled him.

His one comfort: the cool hand pressed to his forehead, checking his fever before another round of medicine.

"I mean… it's your first time having the flu, so it's gonna feel bad, y'know?" Ben murmured as he poured a bitter, blue liquid into a small plastic cup.

Homelander cringed at the sight. He hated the taste so fucking much. Couldn't taste half of what he ate, but his tongue could register the vile medicine just fine– go figure.

Ben had told him it would be like black licorice if it were dipped in pure menthol. It was accurate, but somehow so much worse– enough to make him gag and beg for mouthwash of all things.

"You're not makin' me drink that again, are you?" His words slurred slightly, voice nasally and unbecoming of the man who once held more power than God himself could ever dream.

"Mm, no." Ben hummed, his smile sympathetic. "Just pouring it out so it's ready for bed. Lucky for you, just some Tylenol and Mucinex for now."

"Oh thank god," he whined, leaning back against the mountain of pillows damp from fever sweats. All of the air conditioning and fans blowing on him did nothing to help, and his body worked hard to sweat it out.

Absolutely miserable.

"Actually, I was thinking of swapping out the sheets so they'd be dry for you. Maybe toss you in the tub for a bit," Ben ran a hand through his damp locks, ruffling them slightly. "Up to you."

A dry bed sounded nice…

He nodded.

It was a chore to get out of bed. His body ached, especially his back. But, as sure as the sun would rise, his little spider was there to snatch him off his feet and carry him.

As humiliating as it had been, he'd needed help on the first day. He'd felt so horrible that he didn't eat or drink all day. That, combined with the fever, and… well.

He learned the hard way that walking while dizzy was dangerous.

Since then, Ben practically became his nurse. He took off work– shirked his heroic duties to stay home and take care of him to the point he outright ignored the occasional sirens.

He only left for cold medicine and takeout.

The bath water wasn’t quite hot, but not cold, either. Something about not agitating the fever– but it felt incredible nonetheless. Bubbles floated at the top, the scent pleasant even through his congestion.

"M'gonna leave the door open. Holler if you need me, okay?"

He nodded and sank down into the water, eyes fluttering shut.

In a perfect world, he'd be able to hear every breath, every movement Ben made while stripping the sheets and covers from the bed. He’d hear the way Benny bickered with the fitted sheet that he could never quite get right on the first try, or maybe he’d smell the little specks of lemongrass oil he liked to fling on the mattress.

The humming as he worked.

The sigh of sympathy as he removed damp pillowcases.

The intense deliberation between flannel or microfiber sheets.

Instead, he got to sit there and shiver– body frozen despite the heat both in and outside of him. Simply trying to submerge further, damning both his height and the cramped tub that he couldn’t sink fully into the warmth.

He got to dwell on all that he'd lost– and how he wouldn't be like this now if he'd never let his guard down.

Vulnerable.

Weak.

Human.

Homelander hadn’t heard the shuffling of sock covered feet enter the bathroom, nor did he notice the fingertips that dipped into the water.

“You ready?”

He’d have jumped if he didn’t know better. Instead, he just groaned.

Ben insisted he not lift a finger to help– that he only sit there and tolerate his coughs and sniffles while being towel dried.

“I’m not totally helpless, you know.” Homelander blurted out, a hint of irritation in his voice. He gazed down at Ben, who had knelt before him to dry his legs. He meant to say more, but was stopped by a cough rumbling deep in his chest.

“Since when don’t you like being doted on?” Ben asked, eyebrow arched. He meant nothing by it, of course, but the look on John’s face told him all he needed to know.

This was a matter of wounded pride.

Of course it was. Being sick reduced Homelander to a state far weaker than he already was. Reminded him that he could always be knocked down another peg, even when he was sure he’d already reached rock bottom.

Ben rose, standing on his toes to press a kiss to the tip of John’s nose.

A million words danced on the tip of his tongue, but none would remedy feelings like that. So he settled for just leading Homelander back to bed, where they stayed for the rest of the afternoon to relax.

Until, of course, it was time to go to sleep.

“No– Ben, no! I’m not doing it!”

“C’mon, you know it helps you sleep.” Ben had straddled him, holding that little cup of foul medicine as though it wasn’t pure evil. He giggled at John’s protests, wondering if this is perhaps how his parents felt trying to convince him to take his medicine as a child.

“I…” Homelander seemed to pause as if to weigh the options of sleeping or coughing all night. His expression fell, becoming even more serious. “Sweeten the pot, Benjamin. You gotta do better than that.”

The wall crawler feigned offense.

“Fine. How about a kiss?”

“Not good enough.” John groaned, leaning back into his throne of pillows. “Do better.”

“Johnathan!”

“It’s like drinking sewage!” He countered.

Ben sat back for a minute, deep in thought, eyes flicking to Homelander’s face every so often until the perfect idea hit him.

“What if I…” He leaned forward, coming in close to whisper promises of bedroom shenanigans so filthy he dare not speak them aloud. “...and I’ll even let you tie me up with my webs. Deal?”

Without a second of hesitation, Homelander snatched the cup and downed it with all the enthusiasm of a shot. He didn’t even cringe.

“Deal!”