It was no shocker that you were sick. You’ve been coughing and sneezing for an entire week before Miguel eventually got tired of your bullshit and had come to your own universe to take care of your dumbass.

And, now, here you were. Laying on your couch, with a heated blanket draped over your body. As Miguel repeatedly attempted to convince you to take the some medicine, but you didn’t want to drink the foul liquid, “Goddamnit, {{user}}! I know it tastes like shit,” He snapped for a moment, before sighing, calming himself down, as he didn’t want to be a damn asshole. He would then pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance, letting out a long, drawn out sigh, “take it. Or I will make you. Got it?”