Get me started on my OT3s and it's hard to stop me. :) Modern AU, as always.
The prompt: Imagine both members of your OTP are sick, so one of their friends has to come over and take care of both of them.
"Honestly, Mikasa," Armin said, depositing several bags onto the kitchen counter, "I thought you'd take better care of yourself."
Mikasa lay on the couch covered in a blanket, a box of tissues on the coffee table beside her. Eren was flopped in the armchair nearby with another blanket and box of tissues. A waste basket sat in between them, half full of tissues.
"I was careful," Mikasa said. "Washed my hands all– all the–" She grabbed a tissue just in time to sneeze. "All the time. And I–"
"It's okay," Armin interrupted. "I just had to say something." He took various medicines and cough syrup out of one bag, foodstuffs out of the others.
"You're very brave walking into this den of disease," said Eren hoarsely.
"I couldn't leave you to deal with it by yourselves." Grabbing one box, Armin pulled out a face mask and put it on. "That's why I need this. If I get sick then where would we be?"
"Cuddling in bed being–" sneeze– "sick together. Sounds good to me."
"Please cover your mouth, Eren. I'm starting to see why Mikasa caught it." He walked over to each of them and felt their foreheads in turn. "Do either of you have a persistent cough? Sore throats?" he asked as he went back to the counter and gathered some pills.
"Not yet," Mikasa murmured. "Congested, a little."
"And I'm running like a goddamn faucet," Eren said, when he finally finished blowing his nose.
Armin brought a glass of water to Mikasa and handed her some meds. "Decongestant, and Tylenol for the fever. Here…" He helped her sit up and waited till she'd downed the pills, then returned to the sink to get Eren a glass and meds too. "Same for you."
"Thank you, Nurse," Eren said in a sing-song.
Armin winked. "Just doing my job." He gave Eren's shoulder a squeeze, then headed back to the kitchen area. "The nurse has to make you poor dears some soup."
They both perked up at that.
"Have we mentioned how much we love your cooking?" Mikasa said.
"And you?" Eren added.
"Not for a few hours," said Armin, laughing. "Now quit talking, you both sound like you swallowed gravel."
Armin had a habit of humming while he cooked, and so it was while he chopped celery and carrots, gathered spices, put a pot on the stove. Presently he retrieved a container of soup from one of the bags and put it in the microwave. "Full disclosure: I made soup the day before yesterday. I saved some for you but it was a small batch, so I needed to make more."
"Thanks for making it here, then." Eren breathed deeply and smiled. "It smells wonderful already."
"My plan is working! The smell alone ought to heal you." In the middle of getting bowls and spoons, Armin paused. "I forgot to ask if you actually–"
"Yes, please." Mikasa, sitting up fully now, interjected. "If we didn't want to eat we'd say so." Eren nodded.
"All right, here you go." Armin set the bowls on the coffee table. "I filled them halfway to start with, so ask for more if you want." He went back to the soup in progress while they ate.
Some time later, bowls empty, fresh soup nearly done, Armin read on the floor by the couch, the others dozing.
Eren startled up at one point, stumbling to the bathroom, and when he came back he settled onto the couch next to Mikasa, then poked Armin's head. "Hey, there's room." Armin hesitated; Eren reminded him he was still wearing a mask. "It'll be fine. I just won't breathe on you," he said with a grin.
So Armin wedged next to him, book in hand, and Eren fell asleep onto Mikasa's shoulder. Armin dozed off soon after, lulled by body heat and the lingering scent of soup.
And when he got sick a week later, Eren and Mikasa were model nurses.