Chapter Text
“I am not sick!” you grumbled as Asmo popped the thermometer in your mouth.
“Of course not, darling. You just look like death warmed over as a fashion statement.” he smirked. You scowled and sneezed, almost dropping the implement. He frowned and set it to the side, handing you a few tissues.
“That does not make me feel pretty.”
“It wasn't meant to.” he sang.
“Were did you even get a thermometer?” you asked as he went to press it back into your mouth. “Do demons get fevers?”
“It's Satan's.”
“What does he need with it?”
“I like to keep the temp of my potions.” he appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. You were horrified.
“Literal poisons! And you're putting it in my mouth!?!” you squeaked, glaring at Asmo.
“Well, I washed it off.” he scoffed. “No need to get dramatic, darling.” you glared and closed your eyes wearily.
“Still, Asmodeus, I would appreciate if you didn't go through my drawers.” Satan came in and sat on the edge of your bed.
“You do look a bit unwell.” you could hear the frown in his voice.
“I promise I'm fine.” you muttered.
“What's the fuss?” of course Lucifer had to come in. You felt more than heard him walking towards the bed. He had an uncanny ability to make his steps nearly silent. Sometimes you thought he made noise for your benefit.
“You don't look so good.”
“Are you all done boosting my ego?” you grumbled before coughing heartily into your elbow. They all exchanged a glance. Lucifer's gloved hand smoothed down your forehead. You couldn't help but press into the cool touch. He cupped your cheek.
“Are you unwell, dearest?”
“I just have allergies.” you sniffled as he placed the thermometer under your tongue.
“What are you allergic to, in particular?”
“The bullshit.” you mumbled.
“Mammon makes all of us feel that way.” he smiled and smoothed your hair back, giving your head a little pat. You just scowled again and waited until he took the instrument out of your mouth. He looked serious for a moment.
“101. I think this calls for you staying home today.”
“Or I could take ibuprofen and cowboy up. Give me like, fifteen minutes. A hot shower and I'll be perfectly fine.”
“Or you could stay here and behave yourself and not give me more of a headache.” he started to herd the others towards the door.
“That's not nearly as much fun.” you coughed lightly. He threw a glance over his shoulder, a mix between exasperated and amused. Which was typically the way he looked at you.
“Rest,” he pointed one finger. The command didn't leave much room for argument, so you slumped down into bed, wriggling your toes. The sheets were at least cool, and the bed was comfortable. You turned on your side and let your eyes drift shut.
It wasn't long until a cacophony of voices roused you.
“She does not require all of you to stay home. I'm sure she'd never get any rest at all with all of you here.”
“Right, and since I'm her first, I think I'd better stay. Leave it to the Great Mammon.”
“Please, you'd likely make her nauseous.” Asmo now, snorting rather unattractively.
“You'd paw her to death!” Levi, accusing.
“And that is precisely why Belphegor will be the one staying with her.” Lucifer's smooth voice.
“I am?” his voice, thick and slow. “How do you know she wants me to stay with her?”
“I'm not giving her a choice.” a sharp knock on the door, then it being cracked open. “Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling?”
“With my fingers.” you blink, feeling catty. “I don't need a baby sitter.”
“I'm afraid you do. I can't trust you not to try and get dressed and come to RAD.”
“Isn't that what I'm meant to do?”
“Hmm,” he smirked at you, pressing his cheek against your, ostensibly to check your temperature. “It would reflect poorly on the exchange program if you were to collapse in the hallways.”
You don't respond, but press against him a little bit, enjoying the cool of his skin. Almost reluctantly, he withdraws, then busies himself with pulling down your blankets. You yelp and pull your legs up.
“What's the big idea?” you croak.
“Belphegor will only watch you in his room. His bed is the perfect place for you to try and recover.”
“For God's sake!” you mutter. He at least has the grace to help you into a fluffy bathrobe and wait for you to shuffle into some slippers. He offers his arm with a small smile, somewhere between charming and mocking. You want to give him a dirty look, instead you slide loop your own arm through. You have to lean against him a bit more than you'd like. You try hard not to show it, knowing that he'd scoop you up to carry you if he gets suspicious.
Belphegor is sitting up in bed, on his DDD. He barely looks up, pointing instead to Beel's bed. Lucifer walks you over, carefully depositing you in and staring. You blush as you take off your slippers and robe, and let him pull the blankets up around you.
“Here,” he pulls sets out a bottle of ibuprofen and a water bottle. “Try and rest.” he nods to his brother and is gone in an instant.
“Under the weather?” Belphie yawns.
“I guess.” you rasp out, snuggling in. The bed is big, and warm, and soft, and smells faintly of Beelzebub. You like that smell, and wind yourself in it, nearly purring. Belphie cocks his head at your and give you a sweet smile.
“Sleep will make it better.”
“You just want to nap instead of study.” you roll your eyes. He shrugs.
“Tell me I'm wrong.”
Well, he has you there. You tug the blanket nearly to your ears and burrow into Beelzebub's pillow, idly thinking that it is a wonder there aren't crumbs in the bed. You're asleep before you know it.
Your sleep feels hot and restless. You wake up gasping, breathing out of your mouth in an entirely uncomfortable way. You kick away the sheets and sit up, pressing the heels of your hands to your head and trying not to whimper out loud.
“Hey,” a soft, gently voice from the next bed. “What's wrong?”
“I don't feel good.” you choke out. You sip from the water bottle to quench the fire in your throat. He watches you for a second and points to the bottle of medication. You swallow down two of them and try to settle back into bed.
But the bed is uncomfortable now. Every time you lay down, your nose stuffs up and you can't breathe. Your throat aches, and your head is still pounding. You fluff the pillows, punch them back down, and wriggle down. There's an irritated sigh from the bed across from you.
“I'm sorry,” you manage.
“Come here,” he opens his blankets a bit. You crawl in, laying on your side to face him. His sheets are cooler and softer. He presses his forehead to yours and hums thoughtfully. He draws back slightly, and his hand comes to the top of your head.
“Can't cure the headache. I can make it ease up so you can sleep.”
That sounds fine to you. You let your eyes close as his fingers run from the top of your head down your forehead. At first, the motion is annoying, like a fly walking down your skin. But he presses a little bit harder, and you find your body relaxing down.
“There!” he moved his hand back. “That's much better.” he nestled next to you with a smile. “Now we can finally get some sleep.”
And sleep takes you down, smooth and easy.