Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: "When regular people get sick, I immediately think of getting them chicken noodle soup! I have no idea what to do when vegans get sick, Daniel!" Layla tries to help her boyfriend recover from a cold, with varying degrees of success. DanielLayla, oneshot
New pairing time! I dunno why, but I think these two could be cute together. And I just love me some Daniel Bryan. He's just lovely, and I hate that he gets used as the bad guy in a lot of fics. Anyway, I hope that y'all enjoy this little fic. It was really fun to write!
Cough Syrup
A frantic hand rap, rap, rapped on the door to Apartment 205.
Layla sighed and shifted her weight from foot to foot impatiently. Her long hair was pulled back away from her face in a messy tail and her clothes weren't the sexiest things she could have put on, but she really needed to see her current-annoyance-slash-boyfriend Daniel Bryan.
She groaned to herself and banged on the door yet again. "Daniel, open the door!"
Nothing.
She was just about to turn away and leave when a buzzing met her ears. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and immediately, Layla reached down and grasped it in her thin fingers. She gazed at the device for a moment only to see 1 new message flashing on the screen.
Layla manipulated the phone - she could never really get used to these smart phones - so that she was able to read the text. She let out a curse in annoyance when she saw that the text was from her boyfriend.
Simply, it said: Door's open.
Really? If the door was open, then why didn't he answer? Why did he call her with some urgent crisis - which, really, was a redundant phrase if she'd ever heard one - and told her to bring some canned soup and the latest season of The Walking Dead on DVD. She honestly had no idea what in the world was up with her boyfriend, and it was really grating on her nerves that she had to wait on him like this -
Layla's thought process was cut off when she turned the corner and found herself face-to-face with Daniel Bryan, laying on the couch buried beneath countless blankets, tissues scattered around him, a wet washcloth on his forehead.
Layla blinked. Certainly she was in The Twilight Zone or something.
"Um...here's your soup," she ventured, stepping closer to him with a sense of foreboding.
Daniel coughed so violently she was surprised he didn't hack up a lung in the process. She started in response, a deer in the headlights.
"You," he rasped, "might not want to get near me."
"Ya think?" Layla said, eyebrow arched in sarcasm. "I was actually about to start making out with you right now, but now my plans are shot."
"Now that might make me feel better," Daniel joked.
Layla blinked at him. Apparently having whatever kind of illness this was did nothing to his desire to poke fun at things. Daniel then groaned and adjusted his position, making sure every one of his thousand blankets kept in contact with his body at all times. The washcloth dislodged from its precarious position on his head and fell down his face, which almost made Layla laugh if it hadn't brought out her motherly instincts in full swing.
She reached forward and placed the washcloth back on Daniel's forehead. He gave her a smile before coughing. After the coughing fit subsided, he had the state of mind to look at the canned soup before groaning.
"What?" Layla asked, her voice frantic. "What did I do?"
He dipped his head forward, as if trying to suffocate himself with the blankets. "Trying to feed me chicken."
Layla blinked a few times and then her heart leapt into her throat. Forgetting her earlier frustration, she snatched the chicken soup away from him as if it contained the plague. "I'm so sorry!"
"Two years," he joked weakly, "we've been dating."
"When regular people get sick, I immediately think of getting them chicken noodle soup! I have no idea what to do when vegans get sick, Daniel!" she exclaimed, her voice thin with horror as her hands made their way into her hair.
Daniel sighed and leaned his head back against the couch. A fit of coughs overtook him then.
"Do I need to take you to the hospital?" Layla asked, her brows furrowing.
Daniel waved a hand - or, she assumed he waved his hand. The blankets moved, at least. "I'm fine."
"I'm going to make you something," she said, resolute. She tucked the can of chicken soup into her purse as if it were some dirty secret and then looked at Daniel. "What do you want to eat?" she asked, more snappish than she intended.
"Soup."
Layla rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, no doubt messing up her makeup. "What kind?"
"Vegetable."
"Of course."
Layla set to work then. Luckily enough, Daniel was a health food nut and kept fresh vegetables around the apartment as if they were going out of style. Also, luckily enough, she was a halfway decent cook.
As the unmistakable scent of soup and cooking vegetables filled the air, she heard Daniel cough several quick times and then sigh in exasperation.
"Do you have any cough drops?" she asked.
"No."
"Cough syrup?"
"No."
"Popsicles?"
"Aw, geez, I wish."
"What good are you?" Layla said, glaring at him.
"Not much," he joked wearily.
Layla sighed and stepped forward, getting closer to him than any sane person in the presence of someone sickly. She kneeled down to his level and pressed a hand to his forehead, brushing away strands of sweat-soaked hair. She gave him a smile. "And I don't have an issue with that," she said. "Just means you actually need me for once."
Daniel scoffed and said, so quietly that Layla thought she was hearing things, "I always need you."
"That's sweet," she replied, sarcasm lacing her tone, though she felt the blush streak across her cheeks. She rose from her crouch and started to make her way across the room and back to the kitchen. "But if you get me sick, I just might have to put you in one of those submission holds you love so much."
"Can't imagine a better way to tap out," he called back.
Layla grinned in an almost wicked manner as she continued to cook.
Two days later, Layla found herself on the couch, bundled up next to Daniel's still mummified form.
An awful sounding cough ripped itself from her throat, and she looked at Daniel with something akin to murderous intent.
"I hate you," she said, sniffling.
"Love you, too," Daniel said with a sickly grin.
"Don't think I didn't forget about what I promised."
"I didn't."
"Good."
End.