“I’m not sick.” Lucifer huffed, his voice snotty.

He stands there in the middle of the room, wrapped in a blanket. He claims he’s not sick and yet he’s burning up and sweating buckets. He sways back and forth slightly, the lightest push could knock him to the ground.

He sneezes, wrapping his blanket tighter around him and hugging his comfort duck stuffed animal closer to him, making it squeak.