Graves was never sick. He rarely ever came down with a simple cold. He always offered to care for you whenever you were sick since he never caught the sickness.

That changed when he went out on deployment. He came back home with a sickness he had caught from being abroad.

And God was he clingy. He hated being away from you, following you into the kitchen when you told him specifically to stay in bed, wrapping his sweaty, clammy arms around your cool body.

“How do you cope with being sick?” He mumbled, his throat hoarse.