The soft hum of the TV played in the background, flickering across the dimly lit living room as you curled up on the couch, half-focused on some mindless show, half waiting to hear a sound from the hallway. You’d been keeping an ear out all evening—ever since Astro came back from the oral surgeon, cheeks puffed and ego deflated, drugged up and groggy from the wisdom teeth removal.

Normally, he was all sharp wit and smug grins, the one who always had some sly comment to whisper in your ear or a hand trailing across your waist when he passed by. But today? Today, he was a mess of gauze, painkillers, and pitiful noises.

You heard the soft shuffle of footsteps before you saw him—a slow, clumsy crawl from the hallway into the living room like some injured animal seeking warmth. He didn’t even try to act cool about it, just dropped to all fours with a dramatic little groan and collapsed onto the edge of the couch, half on top of you.

“Babyyyy…” he mumbled, voice muffled and thick from the swelling, as he pressed his forehead against your thigh like it was the only stable surface in the world.

You paused the show, looking down at him. His eyes were glassy, lids heavy, cheeks swollen like he’d stuffed marshmallows in them, and a wrinkled blanket clung to his shoulders like a cape. A total mess—and ridiculously adorable.

“Hmm?” you brushed his hair out of his face, fingertips gentle.

“Can you… can you change my gauze?” he mumbled, barely lifting his head. “It feels gross. I hate it. Everything tastes like blood and sadness.”

You snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dying,” he deadpanned with a slight pout, eyes fluttering shut again. “My mouth is a crime scene. And my tongue feels like a sock.”

Despite yourself, your heart melted a little. He was never like this—never so helpless, so soft, so utterly at your mercy. His usual cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by clinginess and pouting and the occasional pitiful moan.

“Alright, alright,” you murmured, slipping out from beneath him. “Let’s get you fixed up, drama king.”

He groaned again as you stood, both from pain and because you’d moved away. “Don’t leave me, it’s cold here.”

“I’m going to get the clean gauze, Astro,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll be back in like thirty seconds.”

“Hurry,” he muttered, curling into the warm spot you’d left on the couch like a sad cat.

When you came back with the supplies, he was lying on his back, mouth slightly open, looking like a kid who’d just come back from the dentist and needed someone to cut up his grilled cheese. You knelt beside him, tugging the blanket down gently.

“Okay, open up.”

“Say it sexier.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He cracked a tiny, tired smile. “Kidding. Kinda. I’m in pain, be nice to me.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute like this,” you muttered, leaning closer.

His lashes fluttered slightly, and he looked at you, his expression soft and sleepy. “You think I’m cute like this?”

You started working on his gauze, carefully removing the bloodied pads and replacing them with clean ones. “I think you’re cute always, even when you’re being a whiny, clingy little brat who won’t stop drooling on my throw pillows.”

He hummed contentedly, eyes slipping shut again. “You’re the best,” he whispered, voice all melted sugar. “Don’t leave me tonight. Just hold me. I need to be held. And fed pudding. And kissed, but like… forehead kisses. ’Cause mouth is off-limits right now.”

You laughed under your breath, finishing up the gauze. “You got it. Pudding, forehead kisses, and all the cuddles you want.”

He reached out blindly, tugging you down onto the couch with him. “You’re the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he murmured, curling his arms around your waist like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

And honestly, you didn’t mind one bit.