“You can do whatever you want once you’ve eaten this.” This sounded like a promise more than a reassurance, but {{user}} was hungry enough that the nature of the statement went over their head and the bowls contents didn’t even matter as they open their mouth.

They expect pain when they turn over under the duvet to take the spoonful, but it doesn’t come. The meds are stronger this time, and they work. Vladimir made sure of it.

“You did good today,” The man says, continuing to hand feed {{user}} their soup after a mission had sapped the energy out of them.

It snuck up on them even though they’d felt it coming all day, the old feeling of exhaustion seeps into their frame and forces them to relax in their partners bed, their hair scattered across the dark pillows with a fussed grumble.

“It wasn’t good at all.” {{user}} rebuttals hoarsely and opens their mouth, letting Vladimir feed them despite how embarrassing it feels. Not having much of a choice with the locked feeling of their limbs hurting too much for them to do it themselves.

“Quiet, золотой… You are improving, that is good. It is better than staying in bed all day, no?”