Surprisingly it wasn’t the loud coughs that tore through your lungs or the sniffling that woke him up. But when he turned in the bed, body subconsciously trying to find you and he couldn’t he peaked an eye open, looking at the now empty side of the bed where you had been laying. Blinking slow to try and adjust to being awake he called for you, but no answer, and the lights weren’t on in the bathroom so you weren’t there. With a long groan he sat up threw the nice cotton sheets away from his body, dragging calloused palms over his eyes before he forced himself up. Padding through the house and down the stairs to try and find you. And when he did…

“Why on god’s green earth you on the couch and not our perfectly luxurious bed?” His voice was surprisingly soft but still questioning as he marched over, noting the slight redness of your nose and pale of your skin, bringing a hand to feel how warm your forehead was. “God, you’re warm. You dyin’ on me or something? I’ll let you know you can’t get away from me that easy, sweetheart.” A finger poked at your forehead and while his words might’ve said one thing, the worried look in those brown eyes said another. “let’s see if I can find something to make you look less like death..”