#shawn mendes sicfic

[wordsandshawn]

Fever

Summary: You have a fever and Shawn takes care of you. Tons of cute, caring, kind Shawn. 

Masterlist

~~~

You wake up feeling cold, so cold that you’re almost shivering. Your head hurts and despite the fact that you slept all night, you feel like you haven’t slept in days. You look over to your boyfriend to see that he’s still fast asleep. Lifting his arm, you scoot closer to him, hoping to steal some of his warmth, but it doesn’t help. You still feel cold.

About ten minutes later, his alarm goes off, signaling that it’s time for him to wake up. You’re both in London today, he has press to do and you came along to support him and to just get to spend some time with him. He wakes up slowly, pressing the snooze button on his phone. He turns to face you, seeing that you’re awake. “Good morning.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Morning,” You mumble.

His hand goes to your forehead, “Are you not feeling well?” He asks, noticing that your head is warm.

“It’s just so cold.” You respond, trying to get even closer to him to steal his warmth.

“I think you have a fever.” He tells you.

“No, we just need more blankets.” You reply.

“You definitely have a fever.” He says, getting out of bed. You wish he wouldn’t leave, but you don’t have the energy to protest. He heads to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. About five minutes later, he returns with a wet washcloth that he places on your forehead. “Shawn, stop. It’s cold.” You tell him, trying to push the washcloth away, but he holds it in place. “That’s the point, baby. We have to get the fever to come down.” He speaks softly, knowing you’re not feeling well.

“My head hurts,” You say.

He kisses your temple softly, the part of your head that’s not covered by the cold washcloth. “I’m sorry sweetheart.”

“s’not your fault.” You tell him, letting your eyes close.

“Let me see if someone has Tylenol.” He says, speaking softly, trying not to do anything that will make you feel worse. He picks up his phone and goes to the far side of the hotel room, so his talking won’t disturb you. A few minutes later her returns you. “I talked to Andrew. He’s going to bring you some Tylenol. I have to go because I have that BBC performance,” He genuinely sounds pained that you’re sick and he has to go to work. He brushes your hair from your face and takes the now warm towel off of your forehead. “I tried to get Andrew to reschedule it, but he said it wasn’t possible. I’m trying to move some of my stuff from this afternoon though,” He tells you.

“I’m fine Shawn, it’s okay,” You manage to tell him even though you are clearly not fine.

“Just try to rest, and I’ll be back before you know it.” He tells you, shoving his wallet and phone into his pockets. “Andrew has the key, is it okay if he lets himself in, that way you don’t have to get up to open the door?”

You just nod, and Shawn says, “Call me if you need anything, okay?” You nod and he asks, “Do you want me to send someone to stay with you?”

“No, if its not you, I want to be alone.” You say quietly, and its true because you don’t really want anyone besides Shawn to see you sick. Obviously Andrew will when he brings you the Tylenol, but hopefully he doesn’t stay long.

“Okay, sleep baby. And if you get too hot, if you feel like your fever is getting too high, go take a shower, okay? The water doesn’t have to be cold, but at least make it lukewarm. Or you can get another washcloth.” You nod to let him know that you heard him, and he says goodbye quickly before rushing out the door, probably already late.

About ten minutes later, a knock comes on the door, following by the sound of the lock opening. Andrew enters. “Hi y/n, how are you?” He asks.

“Bad.” Is all you mumble.

“Right, sorry.” He says, “I have Tylenol, and some water.” He says placing three bottles of water and the pill bottle onto the bedside table. He reads the bottle, and then pours two pills into the cap. You sit up, and he drops the pills in your hand then takes the cap off the water bottle. After taking the pills, Andrew asks if you need anything else, asking if you want food, but you tell him no. He tells you that he’s going to try to get Shawn to have the afternoon off, and you had already liked Andrew before, but now you really appreciate him. He could want to keep Shawn away from you with you being sick like you are. From a managerial standpoint, that would probably be the best thing to do. You even are considering telling Shawn not to come near you because you don’t want to get him sick, but Andrew isn’t doing that. He knows how much you want and need Shawn today and how much Shawn desperately wants to be there for you while you’re not feeling well. He knows that keeping Shawn away from you while you’re sick today would only result in Shawn being upset and you being sad on top of sick.

When Andrew leaves, you manage to fall back asleep, the Tylenol kicking in. You wake up two hours later to find that Shawn still has not returned, but that he has sent you a slew of texts, most of them asking if you were okay. Some were sweet, just telling you he loved you and to let him know if you need anything.

You type a quick response letting him know you were alive, but looking at the phone gave you a headache, so you left it on the side and just lay in the bed with your eyes closed, unable to sleep more.

After another somewhat miserable two hours of lying awake, you fall into a restless sleep only to be awoken by a cold hand touching your forehead. “You’re burning up. Did you take the Tylenol?” You boyfriend asks when your eyes flutter open.

“Yeah,” Is all you say, pushing his hand away from your head.

“How about a bath?” He asks.

“No thanks,” You respond.

He looks like he regrets asking instead of just telling you that you were going to take a cold bath to bring the fever down, but instead he disappears into the bathroom. He returns holding another washcloth that he had run under the cold water. He had also changed from the clothes he performed in to basketball shorts. He presses the cold washcloth to your forehead again. You don’t bother protesting this time.

He says, “I brought you some soup. Are you hungry?” Even the thought of eating soup makes you feel worse, so you just shake your head. He sees the water on the nightstand. “Did you drink any water today?” You nod. “Just this one sip?” He asks, picking up the bottle you drank from when you swallowed the Tylenol. You just nod again. “Baby, you’re going to get dehydrated.” He takes the cloth off your forehead and then gently pulls you into a sitting up position and hands you the water bottle. “Please drink at least half.” He tells you, and you do, the water feeling cool as you drink.  

When you’re done, he caps the bottle and places it back on the bedside. “What can I do to make you feel better, baby?” He asks, knowing you feel terrible and desperately wanting to make you feel better.

“Please come cuddle.”

Those three simple words have him pulling the blankets up and sliding next to you on the bed. Holding you in his arms. He pushes the blanket off of you both, and you protest. “Its cold.”

“Babe, you have a fever and I don’t think the blankets are helping.” He tells you.

“But I’m cold.”

“It’s because you have a fever.” He confidently tells you, but despite the heat radiating off of you, he pulls you closer to himself. You turn so you are lying on your stomach, your head resting on Shawn’s shoulder as you wrap your arm around him. One of his hands is wrapped securely around you while he caresses your hair with the other and presses his lips gently to your forehead.

“If you don’t cool down, the medicine isn’t working and you’re going to have to take bath, okay sweetie?”

“But I’m tired.” You tell him.

“I know, and having your fever so high is probably not helping. You can sleep, but if you don’t get any cooler I’m going to wake you.”

He holds you until you drift off to sleep, but true to his word, he wakes you when your fever refuses to come down. After your bath, you are feeling better, even though you don’t want to admit he was right. You have a feeling he knows anyway, but he loves you so much and just wants you to feel better so he doesn’t even think of saying I told you so.

[wordsandshawn]

Food Poisoning

Requested: can u do one where he gets food poisoning? // Maybe something about Shawn being sick to his stomach?

Masterlist

~~~

After having lunch in town with Shawn, you head back to your apartment where you have to attend one more class at your University before it is officially the weekend. Shawn had some time off so that is why he came out to visit you. He’s staying and spending the weekend with you. He booked a hotel for you two to stay in, because you share your apartment with two other girls and you wanted to be able to spend some alone time with Shawn.

Leaving Shawn at your apartment, you head off to your class. He’s going to wait for you there and then when you finish class you’re both going to go and check into the hotel and stay for the weekend.

When you return to your apartment after your class, your tv is on in the living room, but there is no sign of Shawn. You wonder where he is. Checking your bedroom, you find that he’s not there, so you assume he’s in the bathroom. You finish packing what you’ll need for the weekend, and a few minutes later Shawn emerges from the bathroom, “Hey baby,” You say, looking up at him. You immediately notice that his cheeks are flushed.

“Hey,” He responds, taking a seat on your bed, watching you pack.

“Are you feeling okay?” You ask him.

“I… uh, think I have food poisoning or something.” He tells you.

“Were you just puking?” You ask. To which he just nods in response. “Have you drunk any fluids?” You ask, immediately concerned that he’s going to be dehydrated.

“I drank a glass of water.”

“How many times did you throw up?”

“Three, no, I think four?”

You immediately abandon your packing and head into your kitchen. You fill up a large glass with water. Shawn had followed you out so you motion for him to sit on your couch. You hand him the glass of water, “Drink.” You command.

He listens, and when the glass is empty, you place it on the floor. You take a seat next to him on the bed, wrapping your arm around him. He leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder, and you run your fingers lightly through his hair. You end up lying down on your bed and wrapping your arms around him, trying to make him feel better. You two stay like this for nearly twenty minutes. He’s dozing off, and you’re just holding him. Your thoughts are wandering when you remember that your roommate is having people over tonight. It wasn’t supposed to be a problem because you and Shawn were supposed to be gone already, but now you realize that Shawn probably doesn’t want to be puking with ten people in the next room. Also he probably won’t want to be here when your roommate’s friends come over. “Baby?” You ask him.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think you feel well enough to go to the hotel?”

“Can you drive?” He asks softly, and your heart nearly breaks. Shawn absolutely loves to drive. He doesn’t get to when he’s on tour, so whenever he’s with you, he always insists on driving. He rarely ever lets you drive, unless he’s drunk or like today, really not feeling well. You don’t normally mind because you don’t really like driving and you’re glad he enjoys it so much.

“Of course I can drive, baby.” You tell him, lightly pushing him back to a sitting up position. You quickly gather everything else you’ll need for the weekend, and you’re ready to leave within five minutes.

The drive to the hotel is mostly silent, luckily it only takes about thirty minutes and Shawn doesn’t puke on the way. Once you arrive, you park, and tell Shawn to wait in the car while you go and check in, knowing he’s not up to deal with people recognizing him right now. After ten more minutes, you’re finally alone in the hotel room. Shawn collapses on the bed, like just sitting in the car awake for the last thirty minutes exhausted him. “Shawn, honey, do you want something to eat? I’m sure there’s nothing in your stomach.”

“No my stomach hurts,” He tells you.

“Maybe some soup will make it feel better.” You tell him. “I’m going to go downstairs to get some food, okay?”

“Can you come cuddle?” He asks, stretching his arm towards you, beckoning you to the bed.

It’s like there is an invisible force puling you towards him as soon as you hear his request, but you resist it. “I’m going to get food because I think you need to eat something. Hopefully it is just food poisoning and you’re feeling better soon.”

“But I don’t want to eat. Baby, I just want to cuddle.” He responds, giving you the most adorable face, and he knows it. He knows how to get you to do what he wants, but this time, you’re not giving in. And it’s not at all because you don’t want to cuddle with him, but it’s because you know that he really needs to eat something.

“Food first, and then I promise I’ll cuddle with you all night.” You tell him.

“Okay, don’t take too long. You can take my credit card. Its in my backpack.”

“Its fine, I got it babe. Text me if you need anything else. I’ll be right back.”

You return about thirty minutes later to see Shawn just watching tv.

When he sees you he asks, “Now can we cuddle?”

“After you eat.” You tell him, opening up the container of soup and handing it to him with a spoon. “And try to drink some Gatorade too, I think you’re dehydrated and it’s making you feel worse.”

“Yes mom,” He jokes.

“Shut up, Mendes, you want me to take care of you, don’t you.”

He takes a bite of the soup, and then says, “I want you to cuddle with me, y/n. That’s all I want.”

“Soup first,” You tell him, digging into your own sandwich. You feel a little bit bad for denying him the only thing he wants, but you know you’ll have all night to cuddle, and he really does need to eat food and drink fluids if he’s going to feel better. After you both finish eating, you crawl into bed next to Shawn.

He exhales, contently as he wraps his arms around you, “Finally,” He says.

“How do you feel?” You ask, concerned.

“I’m okay now because my difficult and stubborn girlfriend is finally in my arms.” He tells you.

“You’re okay because your wonderful girlfriend made you eat something and drink fluids so your body can heal.” You say, tilting your head up so you can look into his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, something like that.” He says with a chuckle, and you know he really is feeling better, which is the only thing that really matters to you.