102°F.

That's what the temperature stick read. Tubbo groaned as you pulled the thermometer out of his mouth, rolling onto his side and clutching his head in his hands. He swore this fever was going to kill him if it didn't go away soon enough. He just wanted to stream with his boyfriend today - was that too much to ask for? Apparently so. He sighed as you left for the kitchen and came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup, setting it on the table before him. He looked up at you with tired, pleading eyes - not feeling like moving at all. You rolled your eyes - of course he wanted you to feed him when he was like this.

"Please, love?"