Oh my, look what I finished finally…after months…TWO STORIES ONE NIGHT. BOOM.

Hopefully its cute but I don't know its getting kind of late

They had sent me home for the night; apparently "visiting hours were over half an hour ago". I was reluctant to say the least. I stomped down to the bottom floor, calling for a cab and freezing my ass off as I waited for it. Still though, my bad mood evaporated as soon as I sat down in the vehicle as my phone vibrated in my hand, Carlisle's number lighting up the screen.

I love you.

The taxi driver kept looking at me in the rear-view mirror, bemused at my sudden change in attitude. It was all I could do not to call him back immediately but I can't imagine anyone on the ward being appreciative of it at this time of night.

The nurse rolled her eyes at me as I came in the next morning – exactly eight o'clock, when the hospital started allowing visitors again. "Carlisle Cullen?" I asked her, trying to be polite.
She smirked. "The quiet one, right? Room eighteen."
I tried to decide whether I would attack her for her condescending tone, but in the end seeing Carlisle was more important and getting kicked out would do neither of us any good. A glare would do.
"Hey."
He glanced up at me when I spoke, looking more than a little bewildered. "H-hi."
I sat on the bed next to him, closing his fingers in mine. "Can I kiss you yet?"
He cringed a little. "I'm gross…you don't even want to be touching me yet…"
"I don't know about gross, but cute, maybe." Despite his protests I leant forward and kissed his forehead. The action was irresistible; I don't know how he managed to look so adorable while being this sick, but somehow he had. The fact that he blushed when I spoke made him even cuter.
"I think I'm allowed to go home soon…" he mumbled, quickly changing the subject.
"That's good. Was it okay here, last night?"
"Yes…" It was obvious that it was a lie; he looked absolutely exhausted.
"Hmm," I ran my fingers through his hair, shifting it off his face and holding it there when he leant against it. "Do you want to stay with me tonight? I mean after they let you out?"
"Why, because you think I can't look after myself?" he countered, managing a shy smile.
"No, you dipshit. Because I'm your friend and I worry about you," I laughed, moving so I could hug him. "Should I rephrase that, maybe? You're coming home with me and you're going to stay the night. Or I'm coming home with you, whatever you prefer."
He wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder. "I don't care. As long as I'm with you."
"What's got you so clingy?"
"I don't know…maybe I've had too much morphine, or maybe I'm sleep deprived…or maybe I really like you…"
"Well, maybe I really like you too," I smiled. His hand tightened around mine but he looked away. "Have you had breakfast, yet?"
"No…I'm not sure that's such a great idea right now...I definitely wont be cute after that…"
"Oh, you'll always be cute, trust me, but are you still feeling sick?"
He shook his head. "Nothing like last night. Just a little…off."
"And tired."
"…And tired."
"I'll take you home and you can sleep as much as you want then." I leant my cheek on the top of his head. He was still very warm, but his temperature had definitely come down.
"Mummy Siobhan," he teased.
"Shut up, or I'll make you chicken soup as well." I nudged him with my elbow.
"Are you going to tuck me in every night too?"
"You bet."
"I'm looking forward to it. You know how mothers sleep with people when they have nightmares?"
"Yes." I knew exactly where he was going with this conversation now. "You want me in bed with you, Carlisle?"
"Of course not. I was simply suggesting that I may suffer from nightmares and maybe if someone was to sleep with me during the night it would be comforting." He started to laugh toward the end, unable to feign seriousness anymore. "I'm kidding. I do want you in bed with me- not like that," he added, seeing my hopeful expression. "I meant to cuddle."
"Sure," I agreed sarcastically.
"Technically, cuddling would be part of it."
"I thought guys didn't like foreplay," I teased.
"Well…it depends who with and- why are we having this conversation in a hospital?"
"You started it."
"Hey, I'm a patient; I can act as inappropriately as I want and blame it on the illness." He was smiling genuinely now, and I couldn't help but mirror the gesture.
"Like telling me you love me?"
"…That wasn't inappropriate…just badly timed…" He was suddenly shy again.
"It was perfectly time." I kissed his cheek and this time he didn't pull away.

It seemed to take forever, but finally he was allowed to go home. He insisted that we go back to his apartment though, claiming that if he was going to throw up in someone's house, he preferred it to be his. I really didn't care, but I could see his logic.
"Bed time," I announced the minute we got in the door, pushing him in the direction of his room.
"Hmm…shower first," he protested, disappearing down the hallway.
I sat at the table, already knowing the answer to the question before I asked it but wanting to tease him anyway. "Do you need help with that." I heard him stumble and trip, only just restraining my laughter.
"…I think I'm okay, thanks," he told me unsurely.
I rolled my eyes and decided to follow through on one of my promises.

"What's all this?" he mumbled as he came back into the kitchen, already half asleep.
I grinned at him. "I told you I would make you soup, didn't I? It's not chicken, but it's still soup so it has to be good."
"Thank you…" he sat at the table, leaning forward and folding his arms against the wood and resting his head on them.
"You haven't tasted it yet," I chuckled, going over to sit beside him. I hugged him the best I could, but he wasn't too responsive and part of me worried that he would fall asleep there. "Carlisle? Go to bed, okay? I'll wake you up after its done; it's still going to take an hour or so."
"Hmm…kay…" He slowly got up and I supervised him until he was lying down again, immediately curling up.
"Do you want me to tuck you in?" I teased.
He offered a weak smile, too sleepy to really comprehend what was going on.
Once it was cooked, I took two cups of it and sat on the bed, waking him up and handing it to him.
"You're a good cook," he murmured after a minute.
"No I'm not. If you think this is good, what on earth is your cooking like?" I teased.
"I'm good at making toast," he offered, smiling.
"I'm sure you are." With that we ate in silence for a while until we were both struggling to stay awake.
"I'm going to…I'm going to fall asleep whether I want to or not…" he told me hesitantly, almost apologetically.
I laughed and took his bowl off him, not wanting him to drop it. "Lie down." I stuck it on the bedside table and lay next to him, smiling when he pulled the blanket over me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"You know, just in case of nightmares."
"Of course."