When you walked back into the bedroom designated cavern of yours and Eijiro’s cave, you were greeted with the sick dragon trying to pull himself out of the nest.

You rush over to him as quickly as you can without spilling the mug of tea you had left him for hardly five minutes to get, setting it down to take one of his hands in yours, placing your other on his shoulder to guide him back down into the specifically arranged furs that made up the nest.

“C’mon, pebble!”

Eijiro coughed, turning his head away for a moment. Poor thing looked absolutely terrible.

“I’m not that sick! I swear!”

You shoved the mug of tea into his hands. Chamomile with a drizzle of honey. He needed to rest, he was in no shape to be doing anything, you argued.

“You’re doing everything for me, love! I feel bad about it, let me help you with something. Anything!”