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The chilly air of their England home nipped at the edges of Phil’s consciousness as he struggled to lift himself out of bed. He felt clammy, weak, and entirely out of sorts, but the worst part was the growing nausea that roiled deep in his stomach. He bit his lip, careful not to wake Dan as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
Dan stirred but didn’t wake, his warm hand slipping from Phil’s waist as the blonde shuffled toward the hallway. His legs felt like jelly, and the cold hardwood floors only made him shiver harder in his blue robe. He didn’t make it far before the nausea surged violently, sending him crawling the rest of the way to the bathroom.
Phil barely managed to reach the toilet in time. Trembling and miserable, he clutched the cold porcelain as his body heaved. His blonde hair clung to his damp forehead, the strands sticking in all the wrong places, and tears pricked at his eyes from the sheer force of it all.
The hours blurred together as he stayed hunched over the toilet, his body unwilling to let him move far. He wiped at his mouth with shaky hands, curling up against the bathroom wall when he wasn’t retching. His robe barely provided any warmth, and the bathroom tiles felt like ice beneath his knees.
Phil’s plan to quietly weather the sickness alone unraveled when Dan shifted in bed, reaching instinctively for the familiar presence beside him. His hand landed on nothing but cold sheets, and his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Phil?” Dan murmured groggily, his voice thick with sleep. He sat up, the dim light of the moon illuminating the empty spot next to him. Panic flickered in his chest as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Blondie?”
He glanced toward the hallway, noticing a faint glow under the bathroom door. The knot of worry tightened as he approached, the sound of muffled retching meeting his ears.
“Oh, princess,” Dan muttered, pushing the door open gently. His heart clenched at the sight before him—Phil, pale and trembling, curled up on the cold floor, his blonde hair damp with sweat.
Phil looked up weakly, his dazed blue eyes meeting Dan’s worried brown ones. “Hi,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.
Dan didn’t hesitate. He knelt beside Phil, pulling him into a gentle hug despite the mess. “Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to Phil’s forehead. “You’re freezing, baby.”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” Phil murmured, leaning into Dan’s warmth despite his embarrassment.
Dan scoffed lightly, brushing Phil’s damp hair back from his face. “You’re my princess, Phil. You’re never a bother.” He kissed his temple again, then stood up. “Stay here. I’m going to make you some tea.”
Dan returned minutes later, a steaming mug of tea in one hand and a damp washcloth in the other. He set the tea on the counter before kneeling beside Phil again, gently dabbing the cloth against his husband’s sweaty forehead.
“Here,” Dan said softly, his voice soothing. “Drink this. It’ll help settle your stomach.”
Phil hesitated, but the warmth of the tea was tempting. He sipped slowly, his hands shaking slightly as Dan steadied the mug for him.
“Good girl,” Dan murmured, the term slipping out naturally as he pressed another kiss to Phil’s temple.
Phil let out a weak laugh. “I’m not a girl.”
“You’re my princess,” Dan countered with a small smile. “Now let’s get you out of this cold bathroom.”
Phil nodded hesitantly, allowing Dan to help him to his feet. His legs wobbled, and Dan’s hands immediately found his narrow hips, steadying him.
“You’re okay, babe,” Dan murmured, guiding him slowly toward the couch. “I’ve got you.”
Dan bundled Phil up in a mountain of blankets, tucking them around his thin frame as he settled him on the couch. “Better?” he asked, sitting beside him and rubbing gentle circles on his cold legs through the fabric.
Phil nodded, his blue eyes glassy with exhaustion. “Still cold,” he murmured, leaning against Dan’s shoulder.
Dan wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. “I’ve got you, blondie. Just relax.”
They sat like that for a while, the sound of the wind outside mingling with the quiet hum of their breathing. Eventually, Dan handed Phil a small bowl of soup.
“Try to eat a little,” Dan encouraged, holding the spoon up when Phil hesitated.
Phil managed a few bites before the nausea returned, and Dan quickly set the bowl aside, holding a bucket close just in case.
“You’re doing so well, princess,” Dan whispered, stroking Phil’s hair soothingly. “Let’s take it slow.”
Phil leaned into the touch, his body relaxing under Dan’s care. “Thanks, Dan,” he murmured.
Dan smiled, pressing a kiss to Phil’s forehead. “Anything for you.”
As the night wore on, Dan let Phil pick an anime to binge-watch, determined to keep him distracted. They cuddled on the couch, Dan’s hands never straying far from Phil’s cold legs or narrow hips.
“Do you think I’ll feel better tomorrow?” Phil asked quietly, his head resting on Dan’s chest.
“Of course,” Dan replied confidently, running his fingers through Phil’s hair. “But even if you don’t, I’ll take care of you. Always.”
Phil smiled faintly, his eyes fluttering shut. “Love you, Dan.”
“Love you more, princess,” Dan whispered, holding him close as the anime played softly in the background.
And with that, Phil finally drifted off to sleep, safe and warm in the arms of the man who loved him most.