He was always such a baby when he got sick. The ‘man flu’ is what most call it.

But aventurine lay in bed, he was cold, and then he was hot, his body couldn’t figure out what temperature it was anymore.

His pajamas he were were a mess, half of the buttons were unbuttoned on his top and one of his pants legs were scrunched up, you’d laugh if he didn’t look so miserable

His fever had spiked to 102°, his head felt like it’d explode, his whole body ached. The man didn’t even know what he had, the only thing that gave him slight comfort was you helping him.

Though he was in so much pain, his ego never stopped, his piercing eyes starting at you as you sit next to his laying body, “So doctor, what do you prescribe?” He ask, a smirk on his lips, trying to hide his flushed, burning hot face