Gogo lay on the couch, a warm, fuzzy blanket covering her shivering, aching body. The fabric felt nice against her skin, and she was sure that if she could smell, it would smell vaguely like Wasabi, all fresh and clean with a hint of musk.
Her head felt fuzzy and heavy, like it was plugged up with too much gunk, which, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get to come out her nostrils. Her temples throbbed slightly, a relief compared to the nausea she'd dealt with a little earlier, she had yet to vomit, but she almost wished she would rather than lay and feel like all her sickness was floating around inside her stomach, the more she thought about that, the more realistic the idea of vomiting became and she decided she could, in fact, do without the whole emptying her stomach into a toilet thing.
Besides her head and her stomach, pretty much everything else hurt too. Her legs ached, her arms ached, her feet ached. Her whole body felt weak,shaky, and helpless and she absolutely hated it.
At this moment she could sympathize with some of her boyfriend's hatred of germs.
She sighed and slowly rolled over onto her side, groggily observing the inactive entertainment center.
She could vaguely see the outline of her pitiful, blanketed form in the black television screen, and for a moment she wondered how bad she actually looked. She was sure if she were to look in a mirror right now, she'd regret it. She'd never been too much of one to be overly concerned with her appearance, but she would rather not face up to her likely reddened nose and cheeks, the certainly horrendous undereye bags ornamenting her already bare and makeup less eyes, not to mention the oh so attractive crust settling into the corners of said eyes, and the dried snot adorning her nostrils wasn't pleasant either
Also her lips were quite chapped and she intended to request some chapstick next time Wasabi came in to check on her. Besides all that she was sure her short hair was in a mess, but tho part of her was a bit peeved with having to appear so pitiful and disgusting, another part of her was too sick to care,and she knew Wasabi was far more concerned with how she felt than how she looked.
"Do you want me to turn the tv on?"
Gogo raised her head slightly, as much as she could, to see Wasabi's lower half approaching the couch and his arms lowering a tray carrying a bowl of soup and orange juice onto the coffee table.
She grunted groggily in response before answering "Nah…I'm okay."
"Alright, well, now that you're awake it's time for some soup. You need to eat something."
"Food sounds gross" Gogo complained, her stomach both detesting and desiring the idea of sustenance.
"I know but you have to eat at least a little or you'll be worse off." He moved the tray closer to her and moved the magazines on the table into a neater stack.
To most his current state wouldn't appear entirely unusual- A boyfriend caring for his sick girlfriend, but, for Wasabi, it was. Not the part about caring for his girlfriend, he would do that no matter what, but simply the fact that he stood feet away from a person practically radiating germs and was completely unprotected. No gloves, no mask, and no constant spraying of disinfectant like one might half expect from someone known for being a bit of a germophobe. Truthfully, Wasabi wasn't near as much of a germophobe as he was a bit of a compulsive clean freak, but he certainly liked things sanitary, it was just how he was. Yet, here he stood, practically wallowing in her infectious air and not seeming to give it a second thought.
"C'mon sweetheart, up ya go." He said gently, starting to help Gogo sit up.
"I can do it." Gogo muttered.
He removed his hands and watched her try and push herself up. Her face twisted with effort and slight pain. Her muscles seemed to refuse to work like they should, feeling shaky and weak,which frustrated Gogo, who was normally quite fit.
"You sure about that?" Wasabi asked with a raised brow.
Gogo sighed and gave a look of reluctant surrender. "Alright fine."
Wasabi chuckled a bit and slid a strong arm beneath her, giving her the other hand for support and raising her gently to a sitting position.
A man who was practically religious about disinfecting shopping carts and doorknobs had just taken a very sick person's hand without a single sign of concern. Gogo had never rly seen Wasabi care for a sick person, but something about his actions struck her as surprising.
"Wasabi?"
"Yeah?" He answered turning to look at her from where he was setting up the soup on the coffee table.
"Aren't you, you know, worried about like…germs and stuff."
"What do you mean?"
She adjusted herself on the couch. "Well…you're usually just very…y'know. You"
"Oh, well, you're my girlfriend. I'm going to take care of you. I'm not worried. I mean im going to be like any responsible person and make sure and keep the place clean and keep germs at bay, but if making sure you're okay means being around germs im okay with that. It's not like im afraid of them or anything."
Gogo raised her eyebrows at him, which was slightly less effective with her sleepy features.
"okay so ya I like things clean, but this is different. You're sick, so it's my job to take care of you, and im not about to do so with a mask over my face."
"but aren't you worried you'll get sick?"
"im being smart but that-" he picked up the soup bowl and spoon. "is a risk im willing to take."
Gogo smiled a little.
"Now c'mon, eat up." He held the bowl closer to her and scooped up a spoonful of soup."
"I'm not a baby I can feed mysel-"
"Nope. You're going to spill it all over yourself and my blanket and waste all my hard work."
"It's canned chicken noodle, wasabi."
"Yes but its hot and you're coordination is not what you think it is. I'm feeding you, deal with it."
She narrowed her eyes at him and he grew the slightest bit bashful at being the demanding one for once, and at seeing her reluctance to have someone baby her. Even while she sat on the couch looking like a little messyheaded zombie, she still wanted to try and be tough. It was cute actually, and rather amusing.
"Fine. Whatever."
"That's my girl. And besides," he held up a spoonful of soup "This is kinda fun for me."
She snarled her nose teasingly, the best she could in her state, and allowed him to feed her a bite.
The soup was mostly tasteless on her fluish tastebuds, but it was warm and felt good on her throat.
She allowed Wasabi to feed her good a portion of the bowl before she decided she was full.
Wasabi put the bowl and spoon down and took them into the kitchen with the tray.
"be right back." He told her as he left to put the dishes into bleach water to be disinfected. He washed his hands and dried them to get the sting of bleach off off and keep himself clean, he truly had no problem being around a sick person, especially someone he loved, but it was in his nature to ensure things were in order and take wise precautions when it came to any kind of germs.
Wasabi came back into the room to find Gogo starting to doze slightly, still sitting up. He grinned a bit at the sight. Her with her messy hair and sick, pale face, her little reddened nose, the only thing with much color on her right now. The poor thing looked like she felt awful, but he couldn't help but notice how cute she still was. It never ceased to amaze him how no matter what she did she still in some way managed to make him blush a bit at the fact that she was his.
He walked over to her and smoothed down her hair. She groaned slightly at the touch.
He reached under her again, this time lowering her down. He adjusted her pillow and pulled up her blanket. Before he realized it he was leaning over her and kissing her forehead softly. He guessed he didn't care as much about germs as even he thought.
Gogos cheeks flushed sweetly and she smiled tiredly.
"I love you."she said, her voice a bit weak.
"I love you too, get some sleep okay?" He turned down the lights im the living room and left her to rest, hoping she would get better soon so that the two of them could be cuddling up under that blanket on his couch, all snuggly and sweet.
A few days later she was better indeed, up and walking around the house, good as new.
She stood in the doorway of the living room, holding a tray of soup.
Wasabi lay on the couch, a warm fuzzy blanket covering his aching body.