"Still feel sick?" Reed asked softly. He had just gotten up from bed to cook for you. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand, frowning at how warm it was. "Damn... you think you can stomach some soup or something? Should be easier than a solid."

He held up a bowl. "My mom used to make this when I was sick..." he murmured, holding up the spoon. Reed laughed as an idea popped into his head. "Should I feed you like a toddler? Y'know, 'here comes the aeroplane'?"