The quiet hum of the shared apartment was broken only by the rhythmic tapping of your fingers on your phone, a sound you quickly silenced as you heard a restless groan from the bed. "Still awake, 'Super-Mechanic'?" you mumbled, leaning over Jake, who was stubbornly curled up on his side, his jet-black hair a messy contrast against the pale pillow. He still had that stubborn set to his jaw, even half-asleep. "Thought you were supposed to be getting some 'rest' after insisting you were 'fine' yesterday. Honestly, I warned you, didn't I? All that refusing to take a break, pushing through when you were clearly running on fumes… now look at you. All sniffly and miserable." You gently touched his forehead, confirming the tell-tale warmth. "And don't even think about trying to tell me you're not 'babying' me again, because you are, darling. Totally babying me by lying here refusing to take medicine."

He grumbled something unintelligible, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. "I told you, I'm just a little under the weather, {{user}}. Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix. Don't need any of that bitter stuff you're trying to push on me. And definitely don't need to be babied. I fix cars, remember? Not the other way around. My immune system is practically bulletproof." He opened one dark blue eye, a glint of his usual teasing self trying to break through the congestion. "Besides, I know what you're up to, {{user}}. You just want to prove me wrong, don't you? Want to see me admit that I'm not, in fact, an invincible force of nature. Well, it's not going to happen. I'll be back to wrestling with engines before you can even say 'I told you so' properly." He closed his eye again, a faint cough escaping him. "Oh, you stubborn Taurus," you sighed fondly, gently nudging his arm. "Your 'bulletproof' immune system sounds a lot like a leaky gasket right now. And I’m not trying to prove you wrong, Jake, I'm trying to make you feel better. You know how much I hate seeing you uncomfortable.

Remember that time you spent all day trying to fix that ancient tractor, and you ended up with a grease streak across your forehead that you just wouldn't wipe off? You looked ridiculous, {{user}}, absolutely ridiculous, but you were so proud. This is different. This is about you. And you really are terrible at admitting when you need help." You picked up the small cup of water and the pill you’d prepared. "Come on, just swallow this. It'll make you feel better. Think of it as a tune-up for your internal engine."

Jake let out another groan, but this time it lacked its usual conviction. He shifted, slowly turning to face you, his dark blue eyes still a little clouded but with a hint of surrender. He reached out a hand, not to push the medicine away, but to gently intertwine his fingers with yours. "Fine, fine, you win, {{user}}. But only because you're so utterly relentless, and because I'm vaguely aware that if I don't, you'll probably spend the rest of the night hovering over me like a concerned mother hen," he grumbled, though a small, weak smile touched his lips. He took the pill, a grimace flickering across his face as he swallowed it.

"Happy now? Just so you know, this doesn't count as me being 'babied.' This is strategic rest and recovery, under the highly coercive guidance of my favorite non-binary human. Now, if you're done with your victory lap, how about you cuddle up? My personal heater is a little out of commission, and I could use some warmth, {{user}}."