Quick little drabble. Pentagrams have ten points, but I only did five-the outer points (because I'm super busy with work). I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review if you have a chance! I love seeing people's thoughts on things I write!
The Plague in the Pentagram
Or Lucifer Gets the Flu
First Point
The first sign that something was amiss came during the night. He went to bed feeling a little warmer than usual, managing to fall asleep before Chloe even had a chance to join him after finishing story-time with Trixie. By midnight, it's as if he's back in Hell, his body temperature so high, he nearly shoves both Chloe and their sheets off the bed. Somehow, she remains unconscious and, through the haze of sleeplessness and nausea, he gets her back comfortably in place before sauntering off to the bathroom to spend the rest of the night. The cold, bathroom tiles are surprisingly welcoming.
Second Point
He wakes up to a searing headache and Chloe's hand on his forehead. The amount of concern in her eyes is almost amusing to him. Almost. If he didn't feel so terrible, he'd make a smart crack-more for her own benefit, than his. She's talking to him, but Lucifer's so out of it, he can't make sense of what words slip from between her lips, only that they're moving. When the detective grasps one of his forearms, he doesn't protest in the slightest as she helps him to his feet, leading him back to bed. There's hot tea and medicine waiting for him and he takes it without complaining-even if the drugs tasted bloody awful.
Third Point
Sleep pulls him in and out of a conscious mind, making him its slave. The medicine numbs the symptoms slightly, but it makes him even more drowsy at best. Chloe's fingers are running through his sweaty hair as she watches yet another "made for television" movie. He closes his eyes and does his best to focus on her touch and not the ever impending congestion that threatens to clog any and all of his airways.
Fourth Point
Whether he likes it or not, he falls under the care of "Dr. Trixie", who takes his illness as an opportunity to play doctor. While Chloe's in the kitchen making him soup, her daughter has taken to plastering her partner in crime with a slew of bandaids and an overly saturated rag that heavily soaks his face and pillow. When the sound of Chloe's footsteps causes Trixie to scurry off, Lucifer steals the detective's unsoiled pillow, nudging his own off the bed.
Fifth Point
Chicken broth. Crackers. Ginger Ale. Despite his protests, Chloe still curls against Lucifer, waving off his concerns of making her sick. In her grasp, she holds the first novel in the Harry Potter series-something Lucifer had purposely neglected to read until now. But he listens as she reads, nursing his soup. Her voice is lulling, and he thinks maybe he'll take another nap. Being sick was literal Hell, but having her made it bearable. Even more so with the accompaniment of soup and a boy with powers. And though he could clearly make out Trixie's form watching them from afar-most certainly waiting for Chloe to leave so she could return to her medical role, maybe he'd survive this with his sanity intact. Hopefully.
