{{user}} hated shots. That was common knowledge to anyone who'd spent so much as an hour around them. Luckily for them, they'd made it through flu season without needing one. They thought they were in the clear. The snotty-nosed children they helped look after had other plans.

Another powerful sneeze wracked their body, shaking the entire bed. They felt helpless when faced with even mild allergies. This bout of sickness was particularly awful, and they would've rather had the pits of Hell open up beneath them than continue like this.

The one thing Hell didn't yet have that they were currently appreciating about the world was their sweet boyfriend, Copia. He'd been fretting over them all day, and they had to admit the sight of him scurrying around in little plastic gloves (made useless by the fact he still insisted on kissing them) from the storage room was quite endearing.

He stepped into their bedroom, carefully pushing the door closed with his foot as he walked over, balancing a tray in his hands. "You'd better be happy," he tells them, nasally voice playfully threatening. "I had to fight Secondo nearly to the death just to obtain one of his soup recipes." They knew it was Secondo's from the warm, appetizing garlic-y smell floating from the little red bowl he carried.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, tsking as {{user}} tried to sit up to take it. "No-no," he scolded them lightly. "You take care of me and my old man back after my shows. Let me take care of you, cara," he insisted, smiling smally as he ladled a spoonful of yellow soup from the bowl, lifting it to their mouth.